Alda, Bryn and Jerome
by Trouble in the Night
Summary: Soon after striking a friendship with a young man called Bryn, an incident at the local tavern leads to Gilan's suspension from the Ranger Corps. Furious with himself, Gilan is uncertain as to what his future holds. Little does anyone know, he needn't worry. A terrible plot is afoot, and Gilan, Bryn, Halt, Will and Evanlyn will be tested to their limits in order to save Araluen.
1. What Do We Do With A Drunken Ranger?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

Gilan sat restlessly upon the old faded couch, fidgeting with his silver oak leaf, which was now at stake. Beside him, Halt sat silently, his brow creased in thought. Gilan wasn't sure what Halt thought about this dilemma he had gotten himself into, but he hoped his mentor wasn't too angry with him.

Baron Arald sat in the corner, surveying the pair. Understandably, Gilan was incredibly anxious, while Halt- Halt just sat calmly, keeping his face completely neutral, as usual. Halt was so unreadable it was frustrating. Across from the Baron, Crowley was pacing around the room, occasionally sending an agitated glance Gilan's way. Finally, he heaved back down into his chair.

For a moment, Crowley's eyes bored into Gilan, and then he shrugged despairingly. "There's nothing I can do without breaking my own conscience," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Gilan, but you've embarrassed the entire Corps."

Arald nodded in agreement. "Had this gone just a little bit further, you'd be set up for a good five years in prison and there would be nothing any of us could do about it."

Gilan nodded slowly, awaiting his sentence.

"You are hereby suspended from the Ranger Corps, until we decide otherwise," said Crowley. "When and if we decide to bring you back, you will be on probation for a period of twelve months. If you complete the year without any more – incidents – you will be reinstated as a fully-fledged Ranger. If not, than you will be permanently expelled from the corps."

Gilan nodded again. He had been expecting something like that. "I understand," he said.

"And you'll have to turn in your weapons," Arald added.

Silently, Gilan unslung his bow from his back, placing it gently across Crowley's desk. Slowly, he removed his Saxe knife and throwing knife from his belt and lay them down next to his bow. He began to fumble with his sword, but Halt's hand shot out to stop him. "A sword isn't a ranger's weapon," Halt said, 'So technically, you're allowed to keep it."

Crowley gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said. "Keep the sword."

Gilan nodded, lowering his eyes.

"Good," said Crowley. "Gilan, Halt, you're both dismissed."

* * *

><p>As they left the castle, Gilan was continuously glancing at his mentor, trying to decipher whether or not Halt was angry at him. Halt's stone hard face, however, was unreadable. They continued out into the courtyard, and Gilan was glad of the fresh air.<p>

Suddenly, Halt spun round, grasping Gilan's arm and pushing him into the wall. "What exactly happened the other night?" he asked gruffly.

"You know, don't you?" Gilan asked, "They told you, didn't they?"

"You're worse than Will," Halt muttered. "If you have to answer my question with a question, only ask it once and at least try not to make it a stupid one."

Gilan groaned. "Look, I got drunk okay? And set the bar on fire. As you know."

Halt's iron grip grew tighter. "I want to hear the whole story from your point of view, Gilan. Now" he said in an undertone.

Gilan gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't remember that much. I was drunk."

"But what do you remember?" Halt pressed.

Gilan groaned again. "Please, let go of my arm. I need to think."

Halt relaxed his grip, but did not apologise. Gilan felt his knees begin to shake. Halt must have noticed, because he grabbed Gilan underneath the arm and led him to a nearby bench. Gilan eased himself down onto it, and Halt sat down beside him. Rubbing his temples, Gilan wondered where to begin.

"I doubt anything I tell you will be too different from what you've already heard," said Gilan. "If it is, it's probably less reliable then what you've already heard. If you want me to try and justify my actions, I've got nothing."

Halt glared at him. "For goodness sake, boy, stop stalling! I want you to tell me everything that happened. Now."

"I was riding back from castle Meric," Gilan began, "when a man named Bryn called on me. Apparently his daughter had been cornered by some thugs. They brutally beaten her, and stole her necklace from her. This necklace was an heirloom, and very valuable to the family.

"I agreed to help track them down- he was very worried, and angry- we called in to see his daughter before we left, she looked terrible. These thugs were pretty stupid and by nightfall we had them in the dungeons of castle Meric. Bryn was very grateful, he offered me a drink. I was tired, but in a good mood, so I agreed."

Halt nodded. "So he bought you a drink? But this Bryn doesn't sound like the sort to deliberately get you drunk, let alone to buy you the drinks so that you could."

"No, he wasn't. You see, after we had our first drinks, I was already very tipsy. Looking back, our drinks must have been spiked, because we were more than half drunk already. Neither of us were quite in our right minds, so Bryn offered me another, and I still can't believe I accepted. They weren't our last drinks either."

Halt nodded. "Continue."

"The next thing I knew, Bryn was unconscious on the floor beside me, and I was stark-raving mad."

Halt sighed. "Do you have any idea at all who might have spiked your drink?"

Gilan thought for a moment, then said, "There was a couple of men who Bryn knew, he made a quite unsavory comment about them as we walked in. They were acting very suspiciously, but it was a bar after all, so I thought nothing of it. But I vaguely remember them coming up to me once I was drunk, and talking to me, and buying me more drinks."

"Anything else?" asked Halt.

"I kept drinking and drinking, and pretty much ransacked the bar. I don't know, it was all a blur."

Halt nodded. "Okay, Gilan. And what's the next thing you remember clearly?"

"I woke up on the floor the next morning, with one heck of a headache. Bryn had already been taken home by his wife. Sir Rodney was there, checking my pulse. He helped me up and took me to his home, and looked after me. When I was completely recovered, he took me back to my cabin."

Halt nodded, making a mental note to thank Sir Rodney later for looking after his former apprentice, then discarded his idea. Gilan wasn't a boy anymore. It wasn't his place to thank someone on Gilan's behalf, and Halt was sure he had already thanked the battlemaster enough already.

Halt sighed. 'Okay, Gilan. Let's go back to my cabin. Will's made some nice stew for the three of us."

Gilan nodded miserably. "Yes, Halt"

Halt squeezed Gilan's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Gilan," he said, "You've only been suspended from the corps. Last time I got myself drunk, I was expelled."

* * *

><p>It was clear Will had nothing but sympathy for the suspended ranger. "But it wasn't your fault was it?" he complained. "Your drink was spiked! It could have happened to anyone!"<p>

Halt shook his head. "Maybe it could have, but it shouldn't have happened to Gilan. He shouldn't have let his guard down, and he should have had more control. He caused extensive damage to the bar and really, he was undermining the Corps' reputation by being there in the first place."

Gilan flinched under Halt's stern eye. He had embarrassed the entire Ranger Corps. And while it was perfectly reasonable for a ranger to pop into a bar every now and then, for a ranger to throw himself into the centre of everything the way Gilan had was disgraceful.

Gilan sighed. "I'm going to bed," he murmured. Will opened his mouth for a moment, about to object, but then closed it again, nodding, almost solemnly. Halt shrugged, and signalled for Gilan to leave.

Later that night, Gilan lay on the old, springe mattress. He had given up trying to sleep, and was now desperately racking his brains, trying to remember the names of the two men who had approached him once he was drunk. He was sure Bryn had mentioned them.

And then he remembered.

Their names were Alda, and Jerome.

**So what do you think? Please review! i realise there was a lot of minor details that maybe didn't quite make sense, but there you go.**

**Let's just say that the Meric and Redmont fiefs are quite close to each other, and being a small fief, Castle Meric doesn't have the authority to deal with matters such as the suspension of a ranger. And Crowley was in Meric because... well, he just was, okay? He's allowed to be!**

**Please, pretty please review! Constructive criticism welcome!**


	2. More Trouble

**I don't own Ranger's Apprentice. I never have owned Ranger's Apprentice. Maybe someday, in the distant future, I may achieve my burning goal to own Ranger's Apprentice! But for now, I'll have to content myself by writing fanfics. Enjoy! **

For a moment, Gilan's heart rose in anticipation as he parried an imaginary blow. Sweat poured from his brow, plastering his sandy-blonde hair to his scalp. He thrust twice in quick succession, and, as his blade made contact with the other, he pushed his sword upwards, flinging himself onto the other side of his enemy.

In theory, his enemy should have been momentarily confused as he found himself facing the wrong way, and Gilan would have been able to use this confusion against him. He had perfected the move as much as was possible without an opponent. Later that day he would go to the Battleschool, and see if Sir Rodney would like to spar with him. Only when tested against a quick, experienced swordsman such as Rodney, would he know the move's true effectiveness.

He was practicing about half a mile from Halt's cabin, where he was staying, until he found somewhere else. The Meric fief had been reassigned to Thomas Nilvor, a young ranger and a friend of Will's, who although he had received his Silver Oakleaf at the last gathering, hadn't previously had a fief.

Gilan lay down his sword, glancing warily over at Blaze, who was on lookout. When you practiced with the sword, your full concentration was devoted to manoeuvring the blade. Although it was unlikely he would be attacked here, it was best to set good habits.

There was a slight rustle in the leaves. Gilan frowned. A rat would struggle to make so little noise, yet whatever had made it was quite large, judging from the area it was coming from. Only a Ranger could have heard such a sound, and only a handful at that. Catching Blaze's eye, he retrieved his sword from the ground and pretended to keep practicing. As apt as Halt was at unseen movement, he couldn't fool Gilan.

"Hello, Halt," Gilan said casually, thrilled at being able to catch out his mentor.

'Hello, Gilan," said Halt gruffly, sitting down on a nearby log. "Will's gone to the village; he's catching up with some friends."

"Who's going?" Gilan asked immediately, then instantly regretted it. "Horace? Alyss?" he added innocently."

"Well, Will's going, of course," Halt replied, "And Horace and Alyss will both be there, yes."

Gilan waved this off. "Yes, yes, but who else?"

A ghost of a smile touched Halt's lip. "You were always a curious lad, Gilan, but you never previously seemed to care about such matters," he said. "Unless, of course, you are in fact inquiring on a certain young apprentice chef…"

Gilan laughed, knowing that if he denied it, Halt would only mock him all the more. "Well," he said slyly, "maybe I am. But what do you expect? Jenny and I are in the prime of our lives. If you ask me, you've left Pauline for far too long."

Gilan flinched, expecting a murderous response. Instead he got a slight, sad grunt. It was quite a while before Halt replied, "but I have no intention of asking you." Gilan dropped the matter.

"So what do you intend to do today?" asked Halt, changing the subject.

Gilan shrugged. "I was thinking I'd go down to the Battleschool, spar with Rodney for a while. Where is Will meeting everyone? Maybe I could drop in?"

Halt paused. "That wouldn't improve your reputation," he said. "They're meeting at the Tavern."

Gilan sighed. He would have liked to drop in, and see Horace, Alyss and George as well as Jenny. They were all his friends, even if they weren't quite as close to him as to Will. But Halt was right. "I'll just come straight back then," he sighed. "The last thing I need is more rumours"

Halt nodded. "The less places you're seen the better, given your current circumstances," he confirmed. "You should leave at midday. That way, you'll be back well before nightfall and no one gets anything to gossip about."

Gilan nodded. "Good idea. I guess I'd better leave now then."

"Correct," said Halt. "See you later."

* * *

><p>It was in a sheepish manner that Gilan rode out onto the streets, knowing that the details of the incident in the Meric bar would have well and truly spread by now.<p>

The majority of the townsfolk, however, were more than sympathetic. As he moved down the bumbling street, the warm reassurances called out to him far outnumbered any sign of disapproval. Cries of "Don't worry, Ranger, It was just pure bad luck," and "We all make mistakes, Ranger, cheer up," echoed down the streets. Gilan smiled, and waved appreciatively.

He was in an altogether much better mood by the time he reached the old Battleschool. To his surprise, he found Sir Rodney waiting for him in the courtyard.

Despite their age difference (which was no bigger than that between Gilan and Will anyway) Rodney and Gilan had been friends since Gilan first became Halt's apprentice. Both had studied under McNeil, though never together, and Rodney knew Gilan's fighting techniques better than anyone else alive.

"Ah, Gilan," the Battlemaster remarked. "Will told me to expect you."

"How did he know-" Gilan started, but then stopped abruptly. "Halt," he said, answering his own question. "He has a way of knowing these things, don't ask me how."

"That's Halt for you," Rodney laughed. "Shall we begin?"

Gilan nodded, unsheathing his sword. After performing the traditional pre-match ritual, they circled each other, both waiting for the other to strike the first blow. Eventually, Gilan lunged, and Rodney parried the blow easily before retaliating with a thrust of his own. Gilan jumped out of the way, bringing his sword above his head, preparing to attempt an overhead cut.

They kept sparring late into the afternoon, without so much as a second's break to catch their breath and have some water. Sweat beaded from their foreheads as two of Araluen's most talented swordsmen battled, until at last Gilan decided to put his well-practiced move to the test.

Blocking a thrust from Rodney, he locked his blade underneath the Battlemaster's. Throwing himself underneath the combined weight, he dived behind Rodney. But before he was able to scramble to his feet, he felt Rodney's blade softly touch his back. Groaning, he pushed himself up.

"A good technique in theory," Rodney noted, "but it's pure instinct to spin round towards your enemy. You could be the quickest swordsman in Araluen, but it takes far less time for an opponent to spin around then for you to get to your feet."

"I guess it was a pretty eccentric idea," Gilan sighed. "Oh well, at least it took my mind off everything."

Sir Rodney nodded sympathetically. "Just keep living and working," he advised. "You'll be reinstated before you know it. Have you thought about finding work?"

Gilan nodded. "Do you think Old Bob would give me a job?"

Rodney thudded him on the shoulder. "Well, I'd be annoyed if he didn't. He's always complaining about having too much work to do." Rodney knew Old Bob quite well. Although he was not a Ranger, the Battlemaster had purchased horses off him on numerous occasions.

"Good point," Gilan grinned. "And thanks. For everything."

Rodney gave a mock salute. "You're welcome, although it was highly inconvenient. Don't get drunk again."

Rodney had intended the last comment had been intended to lighten the mood, but he could see he had only dampened Gilan's spirits further. Once again, he thumped Gilan on the back.

"Cheer up, lad. Crowley probably can't wait to reinstate you."

* * *

><p>Gilan left at about five O'clock. The streets were as normal, with people going about their daily business, occasionally sending warm but wary smiles his way, or raising their hands in greeting. His heart lifted. They were treating him just as the always had, keeping him firmly in his place in society.<p>

Blaze's ears twitched. _How considerate of them._

Gilan regarded the mare with some interest. "And I didn't even say that out loud," he muttered.

Blaze shook her mane in annoyance. _Obviously, you don't need to. Will you ever learn?_

Gilan gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, it's awfully nice of them. They certainly know how to cheer a man up."

_Oh, stop moping. It was your own fault._

"Nice to see you're so eager to spare my feelings," Gilan replied, highly offended.

Blaze snorted. _Oh, come on now. Everyone is focused on sparing your feelings. The villagers, Sir Rodney, Will, even Halt. Someone needs to hold you in place._

Gilan grimaced. "Well, since they're all being so nice about it, I could probably drop into the tavern, and see everyone."

Blaze snorted. _As if I'll let you. You can see your girlfriend anytime._

Ah, well. Gilan hadn't really thought Blaze would let him go. And if Blaze wouldn't let him, there was really no hope in trying.

_That's right. There's not. _Blaze shook her mane violently. _And no, you'll never get the last word with me._ Gilan ignored the last comment.

As they neared the forest, Gilan decided to take the long way back. It would do both him and Blaze good to take a trek through the forest before going home. He felt the cool forest air against his face as he crossed the threshold. He breathed it in deeply, relishing every moment. He smiled, and urged Blaze on.

Suddenly, Blaze stopped abruptly. Gilan peered ahead, catching sight of five men, dressed in green and brown to blend with the forest. Four of them were talking in an undertone, occasionally glancing around them anxiously. The fifth man hung limply between them, supported by two of the men. Gilan gathered from their less-than-sympathetic treatment that he was a prisoner.

Concealed amongst the trees, Gilan edged closer. As he drew nearer, he noticed two things: Firstly, he had been right. The fifth man was tightly bound, and the men looking after him were not so much supporting him as dragging him. Secondly, that man was Bryn. Gilan reached for his longbow, grimacing when he realised it wasn't there. Ah well, he'd just have to make do without it.

Gilan dismounted Blaze and followed on foot, not a twig snapping on the ground, not a flicker of movement, nor a rustle in the leaves to give him away. Yet, somehow, they knew he was there. Suddenly, two more men jumped out either side of him, their swords drawn. Instantly, Gilan drew his own, with expert speed. While both were quite apt with the sword, Gilan deflected their blades easily. They were no match for him.

But there were four more men, not very far away. In seconds, they were upon him. Gilan fought, vigorously, batting away their clumsy strokes. But he could not protect his whole self at once, and it was a wonder he lasted as long as he did, before one of the men struck him behind the knees. Gilan fell down, warm blood trickling down his leg.

The men laughed at him, and taunted him, their language really quite inexplicable. One of the men, one of the two who had first ambushed him, kicked him on the head. It was only then, with blood streaming down from his face, that Gilan realised how he had been able to move so silently - he had spikes on his boots. Spikes, as well as allowing you to move faster, also sunk into the earth, elevating you ever so slightly, and making silent movement far easier. They also enabled a kick to cause far more damage.

Gilan lay beneath their terrible kicks. He was dimly aware of Blaze, charging through the forest to save him, only to be stopped by an aggressive shout and a thud. He glanced over to where a bruised and battered Bryn lay, barely ten meters away. For a moment, Bryn came to, only to be knocked out again by the man nearest to him.

Now, Gilan was fighting to keep conscious. In one final burst of effort, he cried out. One man laughed. He raised his sword up, up above Gilan's face, with a kind of mad glee in his eye…

_Thud!_ An arrow suddenly appeared in the man's chest, and he fell over dead. Gilan sighed in relief, for the arrow belonged to Halt. The two men furthest away took off into the forest. Halt glanced at them disdainfully, but let them go. He shot the remaining man in the leg, who then fell down beside his companion.

Halt emerged from the trees, shoving the men aside and kneeling beside the young Ranger. "You have an incredible talent for getting yourself in trouble," he muttered. Gilan gave a wry smile. He opened his mouth, and tried to say something, but he only succeeded in a low cough. Halt pressed a hand on his shoulder, rose, and walked toward the two remaining attackers.

Halt made sure that the man he had first shot was dead, and then tightly bound the other, tying him to the tree. Rope in hand, he started toward Bryn, but Gilan cried out to stop him. Halt shrugged. "He's your friend? Fine. But he looks quite familiar, and not in a way I particularly like." Nevertheless, he squatted beside Bryn and hurriedly addressed his wounds.

"Blaze," called Gilan weakly. "Is she…"

"She's fine," Halt reassured him. "We found her, tied to a tree, a little while back. Abelard's freeing her, they should be here soon." As if on cue, Blaze burst out of the forest, Abelard at her heels, desperate to reach her master's side.

After finishing with Bryn, Halt dashed over to Gilan, finding him unconscious. He sighed, and gently lifted him onto Blaze's back. He moved back to Bryn, and slung him onto Abelard.

Halt groaned. "Guess I'm walking," he muttered.

**Thank you to Hibernian Princess, Tejana, Chopstick Legend, Raider1472 and Layel T for reviewing!  
>I meant to update last week, but I didn't really get around to it. Will try my very best to update regularly, but no promises!<strong>

**I can't believe how much detail I actually remembered! I remembered Meric fief and Old Bob! I checked them with Ranger's Apprentice wiki and I was right. Very surprising because I don't normally remember things like that.**

**So, what do you think? Please review!**


	3. A Close Call

**YaY, exams are over and done until June 2012! I am celebrating with double updates.  
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**To everyone that reviewed: I love you. I do appreciate it- I find it very helpful to know what people think of my stories. **

**Disclaimer: I is not owning Ranger's Apprentice at present. Nor does I own ze Encarta Dictionary, from which I is borrowing ze definition of Logical. (Not that I didn't previously know it, I was in need of good wording)**

Will urged Tug into a slow canter. He was already going to be back late, and Halt wouldn't be impressed. He weaved his way through the dark streets. It was nearly twilight, and the route he was taking wasn't exactly safe for a young man travelling alone, but it was the quickest way back and he doubted anyone would dare attack a Ranger, even if he was an apprentice.

Tug shook back his mane. _Don't be paranoid. No one would ever attack a Ranger's apprentice when he was MOUNTED._

Will sighed. "Did I make a sound? No, I did not. So don't answer."

_Oh, look who's talking! I don't recall making a sound, either._

"Yes, but you can keep your thoughts to yourself. I can never hide mine from you," Will complained.

_You'll just have to learn then, won't you?_ Tug snorted.

Will sighed. Maybe one of these days, he would get the last word with his horse.

_Or maybe pigs will learn to fly._

Will grinned. "You know, Tug, pride comes before a fall."

_I am not being proud. I'm just being logical .Lo-jik-cal. To be logical is to be sensible, and based on fact. Would you like me to explain either 'sensible' or 'fact' to you?_

Will shook his head. "Now, that's just insulting."

_Of course it is!_ Tug replied.

As they neared the cabin, Tug stopped suddenly, his ears pricked. Will placed a hand in his mane. "What's wrong, boy?" he murmured.

Tug shook his mane in annoyance. _Boy? Honestly?_ However, Will sensed the anxiety in his quickened their pace.

As they neared the old cabin, Halt rushed out, glaring at Will. Immediately, Will dismounted, bracing himself for the lecture to come.

Instead, Halt did something he rarely did - he addressed Tug directly. "Go to Blaze. She's going mad with worry." Tug whinnied, and trotted away in the direction of the stables.

Halt thrust a cloth at Will. It was drenched in water and pungent ointment. The ointment was normally only used on horses - for it to be used on a human the wound had to be serious. "Dab that on Gilan's wound," Halt told him. "Try to slow the bleeding. Hurry up!"

Will didn't need to be told twice. He rushed. As he entered the house, he gasped. Gilan lay on the table, the side of his head gaping. A waterfall of blood flowed out. The wound consisted of many small but deep gashes, as if he had been stabbed with twenty, tiny daggers.

Fumbling with the cloth, Will knelt down by Gilan's side. He shivered - he hated handling pungent ointment. It was derived from warmweed, a drug that had very nearly taken his life some years back. But there were some things more important than avoiding bringing back painful memories.

He dabbed at the wound, desperately trying to slow the bleeding, but to no apparent avail. Halt continuously brought in more bandages, ointment and water. Every now and then, Halt would excuse Will, and tell him to go and take a rest. Each time, Will left, thankfully. Halt's progress on the bleeding seemed far greater then Will's.

Eventually, the flow was thin enough to bandage up. Will smothered the wound in pungent ointment, then reached for one of the white plasters. Halt moved to sit down by Gilan's other side, and together they methodically wrapped his head.

Halt sighed, surveying his former apprentice. "You tend to his other wounds," he said. "Although I've already dealt with most of them. But first…"

Will glanced up at him curiously. It was most unlike Halt to ever be unsure of saying anything. "What?" he asked.

Halt rose. "I'd better show you," he said gruffly.

Will followed him into the next room. Before him lay another young man, who couldn't be much older then Will. There was something awfully familiar about him too. With a jolt, he realized why.

He had been one of the three Battleschool bullies that had attacked him and Horace, in the first year of their apprenticeships. "He's…"

"Bryn," said Halt grimly. "Bryn who was expelled from the Battleschool a few years ago, and Bryn who Gilan apparently seems to have befriended."

Will grimaced. "Then it was probably him who got Gil drunk," he said.

Halt shook his head. "You're insulting Gilan, Will. He has enough judgement to be wary around such a person. And he is excellent at reading people. Besides, Bryn's already woken once, and he seems to have turned a new leaf. He was quite sincere."

"Turned a new leaf…" muttered Will uncertainly.

"Wasn't Horace a bit of a bully, back in the ward?" Halt reasoned.

Will bit his lip. "Well, yes, but…" Halt raised an eyebrow, and Will decided it was probably best to keep quiet.

Halt smiled to himself. At least one of his two apprentices knew when to shut up.

* * *

><p>"Honestly," cried Rodney. "Can't he go one day without getting mortally wounded, suspended from the Ranger Corps, being captured by a band of vicious cannibals…" he waved his arms around frantically.<p>

Halt raised an eyebrow. "I prefer to look on the bright side," he said, "Or the sad side, depending on how much you like Gilan. None of his 'mortal wounds' seem to have killed him, and what's this I hear about a band of cannibals?"

"Good point," Rodney replied. "He would have been some barbarian's dinner if I had arrived even a second later. Didn't he ever tell you about that little run-in?"

"He probably didn't want to talk about it," Will interjected.

"Like you and the warmweed?" asked Halt pleasantly.

Will cringed. In fact, he had been thinking about the incident with the warmweed. Halt hadn't known about it until over a year later, when Evanlyn, upon the discovery that Halt didn't know, had told both him and Horace.

There was a giant crash at the door. Will grinned. "Hi Horace," he called, pleased to have escaped the oncoming mockery.

Horace entered, his face crestfallen. "You heard me," he sighed. "I was trying to sneak up on you."

Will grinned. "Well, keep practicing," he replied. "You have a fair way to go."

Seeing Horace's dejected expression, Rodney came over and thudded his former apprentice on the shoulder. If the recipient had been anyone but Horace, they would have been nursing a purple bruise for weeks. On Horace, however, the blow simply bounced back from his muscular torso. "Never mind, lad", he soothed. "You know what those Rangers are like." He threw up his arms in mock despair. "Impossible to please!"

Will raised an eyebrow, in a way, Horace noticed, that almost mirrored his mentor. "Just because we'll only settle for the highest of standards," Will said. "You knights are far too easily satisfied."

Horace waved his friend's comment aside. "Yeah, whatever. You're all a bunch of perfectionists. We knights don't have time for perfection." He puffed out his chest. "You know, with all that protecting Araluen and stuff."

"Good one, Horace" Sir Rodney cheered.

Will opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Halt, who, sensing that this was going to get too far out of hand, decided to change the subject. "Did everything go alright escorting our friend back to the castle, Horace?" Halt asked.

Will glanced at Halt thankfully, but Halt responded by raising a single eyebrow, and Will's relieved expression melted into one of dread.

Horace nodded. "He was quite the complainer," he replied in a pleasant tone. "Apparently he didn't like being tied to a tree for six hours. Then he wanted some water. When I told him to walk ahead of me, he complained that the sun was in his eyes. I told him to appreciate it, because he probably wouldn't be acquainted with the sun again for a good twenty years or so. After all, attacking a Ranger is a serious offense. But somehow he knew…" Horace's brow furrowed. "How did he know?" he mused.

"What did he know?" Halt prompted.

"Well, when I mentioned my- ah- estimate for the penalty of attacking a Ranger, he said, 'Even a suspended Ranger?' But how did he know?" Horace explained.

"Good to see your wits have sharpened, Horace," said Halt. "I believe I may know the answer." Will shifted nervously at this statement.

There was a soft groan form the other side of the room. Gilan's eyes were wide open, sweat beading from his forehead. He jerked upwards, his petrified green eyes connecting with Halt's. "Cannibals," he gasped. "Halt, they're cannibals!" With that, he collapsed back down, and within seconds he was sound asleep.

Halt turned on Rodney. "He even has nightmares about that 'little run-in' as you call it," he fumed. "And did he ever tell me? No! That's as bad as Will neglecting to tell me about the warmweed. At least Cassandra had the sense to alert me as to that, unlike a certain Battlemaster here!"

"In all due fairness, Halt," Horace reasoned, "Gilan isn't your apprentice any more. He can keep these things to himself if he wishes."

Sir Rodney shifted awkwardly. "Well, actually, at the time…" Halt's sharp glare cut him off.

Halt stared down at his former apprentice. "Gilan has a lot of explaining, to do," he muttered.

**I apologise for the lack of Gilan-ness in this chapter. There is more in the next chapter, I promise!**


	4. Bryn

**A/N: The Gilan/Rodney relationship in this story similar to the Will/Gilan relationship. That's what I'm aiming for, anyway. Notice I said similar - Sir Rodney is intended to bring out the knight in Gilan. I know it's not that obvious yet, and the relationship probably won't be explored too much in this fic, but it will be in future, such as in one-shot I intend to write based on the incident with the cannibals briefly mentioned in the last chapter. If it ends up being a one-shot. This was meant to be a one-shot too, but…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

Bryn's eyelids felt like lead. With much effort, he forced them up. As he did, memories flooded back to him. Those thugs attacking Rivva, the young Ranger that had tracked them down, having a drink with the Ranger, Alda and Jerome, skulking in the corner of the pub, and then feeling suddenly quite tipsy. He remembered being woken the next morning, hands grabbing his arms, hauling him out the door.

He cringed, waiting for the inevitable blow to the head, then blinked in surprise when it didn't come. He was on a bed, he realized. A nice, soft bed. He glanced around him, eventually laying eyes on a young knight sitting by his bedside. He wore very little armour- only a chain mail vest over his grey tunic. A sword hung at his side.

Suddenly, Bryn felt an urgent desire to wield a blade in his hands once more, to feel adrenalin running through his blood as he duelled an opponent. A pang of jealousy touched his heart, but he stowed it away immediately. He had been given a chance to become a knight, and it was his own stupid fault he had gotten himself expelled from the Battleschool, and now bore the consequences.

He studied the knight's face, and was shocked to see that it was Horace. Horace, who he, Alda and Jerome had many a time bullied and beaten back at Battleschool. "Horace," he said awkwardly, before deciding that an apology was definitely in order. "Horace, I'm so sorry about everything Alda, Jerome and I – well – did to you. I've changed since then, even if they haven't. Please believe me."

"I believe you," Horace replied gruffly "If you hadn't, Gilan would never have befriended you. Who, by the way, very nearly bled to death after being kicked in the head by your spi_ke we_aring friend."

Bryn's eyes widened. "What? How…"

Horace shrugged. "As I said, he was kicked in the head, by someone wearing spikes on his boots. According to Halt, they would have killed him then and there, if Halt hadn't intervened at the last minute. We've got one prisoner, but we haven't gotten round to interrogating him yet. Gilan's still unconscious, so naturally he can't tell us much. We were hoping you might know something."

Bryn shook his head. "Whenever I regained consciousness, th_e_y'd just knock me out again," he replied. "Although I suspect…" his voice trailed off.

"You suspect?" prompted Horace.

Bryn paused. "I think Alda and Jerome were in the group. They were at the bar that night when… Anyway, it's mostly just a hunch." He trailed off.

Suddenly, Bryn sat bolt upright. "Rivva!" he cried, then caught his breath and relaxed. "She's at the healer's," he reminded himself. "She's okay"

"Who's Rivva?" asked Horace.

"My daughter," replied Bryn.

Horace regarded him. "You can't be more than a couple of years older than me. How do you have a daughter?"

"She's adopted," replied Bryn shortly, not really wanting to discuss it.

Horace nodded curtly, understanding. "How old is she?" he asked.

"Twelve, this winter."

Horace nodded again, then found his voice, asking the question to which he was dreading the answer. "Alda and Jerome. Have they gotten any better?"

The blood drained from Bryn's face at the mention of their names. "No," he replied. "They're a hundred times worse."

There was an anguished cry in the next room, and Horace leapt to his feet. "Horace!" Will's voice rang out. "Gilan's coughing! A lot!"

Horace bolted out of the room, leaving behind a very anxious Bryn.

* * *

><p>Gilan's eyes flickered open in a state of panic. He felt an uncomfortable sensation crawling up his throat. He forced the air out of him, and then found, much to his distress, that he couldn't take any more in. He tried to sit up, but a firm pair of hands pushed him back down again. He lay there, coughing with every ounce of energy in his body.<p>

"Horace!" he heard Will's terrified voice ring out. "Gilan's coughing! A lot!"

In an instant, two stronger hands pressed down on Gilan's shoulders. He felt a third person place an arm on either side of his torso, and gently lifted him into a sitting position. The coughing continued for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually Gilan was able to take small, shaky breaths, which gradually evolved into clear, deep, regular breathing.

His blurry vision began to clear, and he was able to see the faces of the three figures that stood above him. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Will and Horace's familiar features - he had already known it was them, but it gave him much relief to see their faces. The third, he knew, but he wasn't quite sure whether he was pleased to see him.

"Will, Horace," he murmured, letting their names roll off his tongue. He paused for a second before saying "Bryn." For some reason, the name seemed incredibly difficult to pronounce.

Will let out a relieved groan, collapsing into the chair beside him. "So – glad – you're – okay – Gil," he gasped. After thudding Gilan on the back, Horace turned and followed his example. Bryn stood for a minute, regarding him.

"Sorry," Bryn muttered.

"For what?" asked Gilan incredulously.

"You were suspended from the Ranger Corps. I'm sorry," Bryn replied, blinking back tears "And Will, Horace, I'm sorry for…"

Gilan raised hand to cut him off. He was surprised and shocked by the amount of energy it took for him to do so. "I am the only person responsible for getting myself suspended," he insisted. "And what reasons could you possibly have for apologizing to Horace and Will?"

Bryn opened his mouth to speak, but Horace cut him off. "What's done is done," he insisted. "Let's put that behind us." Will nodded in agreement, and Bryn sighed in relief, moving to sit down in a chair on the other side of the room.

"Where's Halt?" asked Gilan suddenly.

"Sir Rodney was here, but he had duties at the Battleschool to attend to. He left about half an hour ago," replied Will.

"That's good to know. Where's Halt?" Gilan asked, for the second time.

Will grinned. "He left with Rodney. He went to buy coffee."

"I wish he'd hurry up and come back," Gilan sighed. "I could do with some coffee right now."

Horace chuckled. "Oh we did, ah, _keep _some for you." He held up a large bag of coffee beans.

"Brilliant," grinned Gilan. "But I take it you weren't intending only to make one cup of coffee?"

"Of course not!" Will huffed. "Okay, so Gilan and I want coffee. Horace?" Horace nodded in confirmation. "Okay, so that's three of us. Bryn?"

The offer caught Bryn off guard. He couldn't explain why, but for some reason he had not thought he would be offered any coffee. "Yes, please," he answered hesitantly.

Will regarded him for a second, as if was trying to solve a particularly hard maths equation. Then, he shrugged, and turned towards the kettle.

"So how long have I been out, exactly?"

Horace paused for a second, before answering. "About eight hours," he replied. "But don't worry, you're alive." Will came over, and served everyone their coffee.

"You're lucky to be alive," said a gruff voice from the back of the room. "Unfortunately, your life may well be in danger again. I don't like it when I have to go without coffee for three hours because someone's been at it."

Gilan, Will and Horace glanced at each other in Alarm. Halt had returned.

**Please Review!**


	5. Alda and Jerome

**Guys, I'm so sorry! I haven't updated in more than six months! That was a terrible thing to do, and I beg your forgiveness. It won't happen again (hopefully)**

**I do have an excuse – er – explanation, and that is that you have no idea how hectic the last seven months have been for me. You see, A few months ago, we had our music tour to Ireland, Belgium and France, and that was exhausting. And in the months leading up to it, I barely had time to breathe. Then, as soon as we got back, we had EXAMS! And it didn't help that I hadn't been in class half the time. Music Tour was amazing, but my marks certainly paid the price… **

**Anyway, right now I'm on what I guess you'd call a road trip with my family, and so I've got a fair bit of spare time. I've spent a lot of that wishing my name was Guinevere (Apparently my parents were considering calling me that! WHY DIDN'T THEY?)**

**Anyho, ON WITH THE FIC! I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

The bed creaked beneath Alda, and a storm shook the feeble building. An hour ago, the  
>tavern had been filled with drunken singing and merry dancing. Now, all he could hear were blasts of thunder, threatening to throw the tavern to Skandia. A whimper escaped his lips, but he choked it back, glancing fearfully at Jerome. The other man rolled over in his bed, murmuring. He cursed at himself. By all rights, he was a knight. And knights did not fear things such as thunder.<p>

The room shook again, the windowpane battering into the wall. Alda shivered violently under the covers. If only he had been able to complete his Battleschool training, he would be in a castle right now, lying in a four poster bed with servants all about him, waiting to perform his commands. Rather than dancing jigs with drunken chamber maids, he'd be performing elegant waltzes with beautiful princesses. And rather than eating barely cooked, tasteless beef prepared in the tavern, he'd be feasting on glorious portions of roast meat, gourmet vegetables and scrumptious cakes.

"Which is what Horace is doing now," Alda sneered. He seized the model of a carved miniature knight from beside him, then snapped it in half and threw it to the ground. He opened his mouth, about to let out an almighty scream, when a hand clamped down on his mouth.

Alda's eyes widened and he began to desperately shake the other man off. "Calm down, Alda," hissed Jerome. Alda relaxed, and Jerome released his grip. Jerome lips curled up into a sinister smile, as he surveyed the bigger man. "You won't have to wait much longer, Alda. Very soon, we will have our revenge. It's turning out wonderfully."

"Yes, and we even get Bryn in the bargain," replied Alda, rubbing his hands together.

Jerome chewed his lip in thought. Personally, he thought Bryn was more trouble than he was worth, but Alda was even more determined to get revenge on him than on the Rangers. "Yes, Bryn," he said carefully. "Be careful of him. He's smarter than you think."

Not that Alda thought all that much. That was why Jerome still kept him close by. The man would do whatever you told him, so long as you didn't give a show of ordering him about. And he was a big man, who towered over everyone else. Alda was strong enough to lift a bull, as he pointed out whenever a girl was in hearing distance.

Jerome, on the other hand, was small and wiry. He was stronger than he looked, but his strength didn't nearly match Alda's. And unlike Alda, he was highly intelligent. Since being expelled from Battleschool, he had spent a great deal of time studying. He had studied everything from history to philosophy to science, but nothing interested him more than warfare. And he was sure his extensive research would aid him later on.

Jerome turned back to Alda. "The Ranger who we managed to get suspended was Gilan," he said. "He's Battlemaster David's son, and studied under the swordsmaster MacNeil. So as well as being a Ranger, he's prestigious with a sword. The Rangers also recognise him as the best silent mover they have."

Alda chewed his bottom lip in thought, or lack thereof. "So…" he said, "Do you mean he's dangerous? We can we fight him though, can't we?"

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Yes, he's dangerous. Of course we can't fight him. Not without arranging a significant advantage."

Alda rubbed his hands in glee. He wasn't entirely sure what a 'significant advantage' was, but whenever they happened, he and Jerome won, really easily. "What else did you find out about him?" he asked.

Jerome shrugged. "Only that he's Halt's former apprentice. And a good friend of Sir Horace and Will."

Slowly, Alda began to smile. "I like this, Jerome," he laughed.

Jerome smiled, nodding. "It's a perfect plan. This afternoon, Lady Merkhliné sent some men to ambush him, not far from Halt's cabin. They took Bryn with them. He and the Ranger will be dead by now, and Will and Halt are probably being arrested as we speak."

Alda nodded, desperately trying to understand all this. "So… they framed Halt and Will? But what about Horace?"

Jerome grimaced. He himself was impatient to have his revenge on Horace, but Merkhliné had told him many times to wait, each with increasing anger. "Soon, Merkhliné will be Queen," he said, "and you can be a Knight, Alda."

Suddenly, a young man came crashing in, and Alda gave a start. "It didn't work!" he garbled, "and Lady Merkhliné wants to see you immediately."

* * *

><p>After two cups of coffee, Halt was still sulking. It was only after stealing Will's second cup that he lightened up. Gilan looked up, grinning and sipping his coffee. "Halt, Halt, Halt," he said. "It's hardly kind of you to steal your apprentice's coffee."<p>

Halt raised one eyebrow. "He should've been more on his guard. If I was an intruder, I'd probably want to do more harm than steal his coffee."

"It's possible to do more harm?" Will muttered under his breath. "I'm your apprentice, you know. Not your slave."

"There's a difference?" Halt wondered.

Bryn glanced between the Rangers, awkwardly sipping at his coffee. Horace elbowed him. "Just sit back and watch the show," he whispered.

Bryn nodded. "Are they always like this?"

"Always," Horace replied. "The only difference is that normally I somehow get involved in their bickering. Although it's quite enjoyable once you get into it."

"I can imagine," replied Bryn.

"You know, Halt," Gilan rambled, "What are you going to do when Will graduates? Wouldn't it be terrible if you had to look after yourself?"

Halt sighed. He had been thinking of asking Pauline to marry him. No, he hadn't been _thinking _about it. He had been procrastinating about it for the last twenty years. He knew she loved him just as he loved her, but still the constant, nagging fear of rejection remained.

He felt Gilan gently touch his hand. "Come on, Halt. Pauline's not getting any younger."

Halt turned to glare at his former apprentice, but found that he could little more than grimace. "What makes you think I was thinking about Pauline? Gorlag, how do you even know about me and Pauline?"

"You're not exactly subtle, Halt," replied Gilan. "And you get this kind of overcast look whenever anyone mentions her. Though what you seem so sad about is beyond me. Especially since you're happy as a lunatic whenever you see her."

"Happy as a lunatic?" Halt asked incredulously.

"That's right," Gilan nodded. "Once, I even saw you smiling."

* * *

><p>Merkhliné's eyes thundered, as the cold breeze spiralled behind her. Her blonde hair was badly done, and it flapped around in her face as if she had just gotten out of bed. Nevertheless, she was breathtakingly beautiful, or at least she would be had her features not been contorted in rage. The full moon shone on her face, highlighting the way she held her chin high, and her eyes that were brimming with tears. She was nineteen years old, the same age as Princess Cassandra, although in Jerome's opinion she was much more beautiful. "My Lady," he said, kneeling to kiss her hand.<p>

"Jerome," she replied, trying to sound aristocratic. She turned to stare at Alda, sending a shiver down his spine. Alda knelt clumsily, and fumbled with her hand. Just as his lips drew nearer to her knuckles, she drew her hand away, wiping it on her dress. She turned back to Jerome.

"It didn't work," she said softly, sounding like a little girl.

"No, my Lady," Jerome replied. "Perhaps the fall of the Ranger Corps can wait until you are Queen. The Rangers are proving difficult to tame." Alda gasped in horror, but Merkhliné's glare silenced him.

"I never thought I'd ever hear you say that, Jerome. Do you not wish for revenge?" she asked him.

"I do," Jerome replied. "But it is no longer what I desire most."

"Then what do you desire?" Lady Merkhliné asked.

"To see you crowned Queen, of course," replied Jerome. "And for that purpose, it may be necessary to lightly maim the Ranger Corps, but this is easily done. You are the King's cousin, are you not? You may easily slip into court if need be."

Merkhliné met his eye. "You are right, of course," she said, her voices brimming with newfound confidence. "Jerome, when this is over, would you like to be King?"

Jerome's eyes widened. "N –no," he replied. "I'm a scholar by nature. But I would like to be your husband." The two drew nearer to each other.

Finally, Alda could take it no longer. "Now, wait just a minute!" he exclaimed, but once again, the glare of Lady Merkhliné silenced him.

**Reviews? Pwease?**


	6. The Nightmare Dawns

**A/N: I have nothing to say but ON WITH THE FIC!**

**Disclaimer: I Don't Own Ranger's Apprentice**

Bryn left the next day, anxious to get back to his daughter, Rivva. Between them, Halt and Will managed to keep Gilan abed for a week afterwards. "If you'd let me get up two days ago, Blaze and I would be fit to leave by now," Gilan complained.

"Then I'm definitely glad I kept you in bed," replied Halt. "What do you think the healer would have done to me?"

Gilan shrugged. "Nothing, she'd be too busy chasing after me with instructions. _For goodness sake, Ranger Gilan, don't move around too much._" He mimicked. "_Ranger Gilan! You mustn't put too much weight on that leg! Be sure to use those extra pillows I gave you, Ranger, we wouldn't want the wound in your head to reopen. Gilan, you insolent cur, get off that great brute you call a horse right this instant."_

Will laughed outright, and Halt's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Besides, Old Bob was expecting me yesterday," Gilan continued.

"No, he wasn't," replied Will, "Bryn dropped by him on his way back to Meric. Old Bob wrote immediately, saying he'll expect you a month from yesterday."

Gilan slumped. "A month! Well, like the devil am I spending it in bed," he exclaimed, throwing off his covers.

Halt sighed, and then moved to help his former apprentice. Much to his surprise, however, Gilan found no difficulty in walking to the kitchen. Gilan retrieved three, large mugs from the cupboard and began shovelling coffee into them. A minute later, he brought Halt and Will each a cup of perfectly done, honey filled coffee.

"Ah, coffee," sighed Halt, "just the thing when you're dealing with stubborn former apprentices."

Gilan nodded, sipping at his own mug. "Yes, Halt. Note the word stubborn"

Needless to say, Gilan refused to wait another month. The next week, he sent a message to Old Bob, and prepared to leave. At this point, Halt relented, but he sent Will along with his former apprentice.

Halt sat on the veranda, sipping his coffee. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the chair and felt the sun upon his eyelids. At last, he had some peace and quiet.

* * *

><p>Merkhliné's brow furrowed. Jerome had explained his plan to her just an hour ago. It was a good plan. A foolproof plan. And every aspect of it caused her heart to rise in anticipation. <em>Jerome <em>caused her heart to rise in anticipation.

Besides Jerome and his crony, Alda, she had about fifty men at her disposal. Rebels, thieves, murderers, she recruited anyone. Whether they wanted King Duncan off the throne, or they simply had gotten on the wrong side of the law and didn't want to go back to prison, she didn't care. She needed all the followers she could muster.

Jerome's plan, however, didn't involve them for a while yet. For now, it involved her dear cousin Cassandra and a certain apprentice Ranger paying her a visit.

* * *

><p>"Whoa!" Gilan cried. He had been working with Old Bob for ten days now, and was currently trying to deal with a particularly spirited filly. "Easy, girl!" he soothed, rubbing a warm cloth against the filly's neck. "You're a fine one," he whispered gently.<p>

The filly's ears twitched. _Well, good to know I'm not a complete failure._

Gilan chuckled. "Answering back already? You're definitely a Ranger horse.

The filly whinnied. _Great! Can I go then?_

"Not until you've done your agility exercises, missy," replied Gilan, leading her into the next paddock.

The filly turned to him with large eyes. _Why? None of the others have done theirs yet! It's not fair! _

"Life isn't always fair," replied Gilan, pushing her forward. She reluctantly began the course. Surprised, Gilan realized that it was the first time he'd ever had the last word with a horse. Yes, she had a long way to go before becoming a fully-fledged Ranger horse.

"She's a cheeky one, she is," Gilan heard Old Bob say behind him. "But you dealt with her well, you did."

"She's not quite as stubborn as she makes herself out to be," Gilan laughed. "Do you know, I actually got the last word with her just now!"

"Yes, I saw, lad," replied Old Bob. "And now we shouldn't have much trouble getting the others through the course. She's a bit of a ring leader, ya'know?"

"I know," laughed Gilan, "but she's easy enough to deal with."

"Well, you're good with her, lad. You're good with all of them." Bob thudded him on the back. "You've done enough t'day."

"And what should I do until sunset, then?" Gilan laughed. "No, I'll see the others through the agility course, first."

"I can take care of that, lad," replied Bob, "but thankee. Once you've finished, maybe you could practise some silent movement, or some shootin' – you can use my bow. It's just a suggestion."

"It's a very good suggestion," Gilan said. "My shooting must be getting rusty."

Old Bob laughed, and thudded Gilan on the back. "The bow's behind the door," he said. "Well, I'll see you at dinner, then."

"Goodbye," replied Gilan, as he moved to bring in the next colt.

* * *

><p>Cassandra grimaced in annoyance. Not only had she just been kidnapped from her doorstep by a girl no older then she was, she'd lost her sling. She'd never hear the end of it once all this was over. She studied the girl who stood before her. She wore a long, blue ceremonial dress adorned with such finery that Cassandra would only have worn such a dress on special occasions. A moment later, she realised the dress was adorned with substances that were illegal in Araluen. The girl must have had dealings with smugglers.<p>

Cassandra met the girl's eyes. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm sure you're doubtless aware of my identity, so pardon me if I don't introduce myself. But I don't know who you are, so if you were to introduce yourself, I'd appreciate it."

The girl's eyes flared. "I am Lady Merkhliné, Your Highness," she sneered, with a thick Gallican accent. "Soon I will be Queen."

Cassandra's eyes widened in alarm. "'Yes, but I'm afraid I'm next in line for the throne. And if you were hoping to be named my heir, then kidnapping me wasn't the best way to go about it. Although I must commend your strategy. Attacking me from behind when I was stalking a deer was so very brave of you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Every week, King Duncan allowed his daughter to go out hunting by herself, providing she was never gone for more than an hour, and that it was at a different time each week. However, now Cassandra doubted that she would be allowed to continue.

"Oh, Cousin," replied Lady Merkhliné, "I'm so glad you've come. It was quite by accident that we found you when we did. We were expecting to have to break into the castle."

Cassandra's mind raced. She'd been made to memorize the royal family tree enough times when she was younger. Now she remembered. Lady Merkhliné was her father's Gallican cousin. "So, Merkhliné," she purred, "I was wondering, do you know what happened to my sling?"

_Smack!_ Cassandra blinked back tears as Merkhliné's hand made contact with her face. "You will address me as either 'My Lady' or 'Your Highness'" she spat.

"I will do nothing of the sort," replied Cassandra. "I am Crown Princess! And I want my sling!"

Merkhliné smirked. "A princess? Not anymore, you're not," she sneered, "From now on, you're nothing but a slave. When I am Queen, you will be the least of my slaves."

"I see," replied Cassandra. "You're mad!"

"You'll start now!" Merkhliné screamed. "Guards! Take her, and beat her! Then put her to work doing… scrubbing chamber pots!"

Yep, thought Cassandra as five men dragged her away. Lady Merkhliné was definitely mad.

* * *

><p>The news numbed Redmont. Princess Cassandra had disappeared, much to Will's shock. "Evanlyn's gone?" he exclaimed to Halt. "But – how do they know she hasn't just decided to disappear for a few days? It's the sort of thing she'd do, after all."<p>

Halt closed his eyes, inwardly groaning. "They found her sling," he told his apprentice. "And besides, while I'm sure she'd like to disappear for a few days, she wouldn't do it. The Crown Princess can't just decide to take a holiday whenever she chooses, and she knows the pain she'd put her father through."

Will sighed. "I guess so. It's just…"

"Shocking, I know," he said gently, laying a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "I know you're worried. We all are. That's why I'm riding for Castle Araluen this afternoon."

"Great," replied Will. "What time are we leaving?"

Halt shook his head. "No, Will. I need you to stay here. I could be gone for weeks, and I don't want to leave Redmont without a Ranger." In truth, Halt just wanted to give his apprentice some experience looking after his own fief.

Will sighed. He could see Halt wasn't telling the complete truth, but Halt didn't lie without reason. Therefore, he would trust him. "Yes, Halt," he groaned.

* * *

><p>The front door creaked open. Will's eyes shot open, a cold hand of dread clutching his heart. <em>Don't ever oil the hinges on the doors,<em> Halt's voice echoed in his mind. _Otherwise, how will you know if an intruder decides to make an appearance? _Footsteps were echoing throughout the cottage. Will slipped out of bed, and wrapped his cloak around him.

Suddenly, eight men came crashing into his room. Will never stood a chance.

* * *

><p>It was good to hold a longbow in his hands again, even if it wasn't his own. Gilan grinned in satisfaction as he set the bow down again. At first, his shots hadn't been anywhere near their usual standard, but they had improved tremendously over the last few days. Today, he had practised for hours on end, feeling suddenly desperate to be reinstated as a Ranger. He kicked the ground angrily. As it was, Evanlyn had disappeared, and there was nothing he could do about it.<p>

There was a crashing in the trees. He spun around, to see Bryn, panting.

"Bryn!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I know who kidnapped the Princess!" Bryn gasped.

"Okay, Bryn," replied Gilan. "How do we get her back?"

"They've also taken Will!" Bryn continued. "Halt rode for Araluen yesterday. They took Will last night. Lady Merkhliné wants to be Queen. Alda and Jerome are in league with her."

Gilan's eyes widened, as he comprehended the enormity of what he was being told. "You can explain over dinner," he said urgently. "Tomorrow morning, we'll leave for... wherever. We've got to stop this."

"Araluen," panted Bryn. "Merkhliné's disguised as a Gallican ambassador."

A cold chill ran up Gilan's side. He didn't know how Bryn knew these things, or how he had arrived at this conclusion. However, Bryn was in no state to explain things properly.

"Come on, Bryn," he said. "We'll go into the house. You can rest. Tomorrow, we'll ride for Castle Araluen."

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	7. The Gallican Ambassador

**Disclaimer: Seriously? See chapter 6!**

Will's eyes flickered open. His arms ached and his head was swimming. The world was spinning like a whirlpool around him. He blinked. He was tied to a tree, in a part of the forest that was unfamiliar to him.

"Will!" he heard an urgent whisper beside him. Every joint in his back and neck protested as he turned his head to see the dishevelled form of Evanlyn beside him.

"Evanlyn," he said hoarsely. "What –"

"Some cousin of mine decided she'd like to try her hand at usurping my father," Evanlyn explained bitterly. "She sent fifteen men after me, when I was out hunting."

"Oh," replied Will groggily, "So that's why you're here. Why did they take me?"

"Do you know anyone called Alda?" asked Evanlyn, "because he mentioned he wants revenge against you."

The colour drained from Will's face. "He was a Battleschool bully that was expelled a few years back. And I did have something to do with that," he told her.

"Ah," replied Evanlyn. "Well, I see how he'd be good at being a bully."

It was only then Will realized just terrible Evanlyn looked. Her hair was a bloody mass, and her eyes were bloodshot and wild. His eyes widened in alarm, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to register her terrible state. But of course, he wasn't used to seeing her in her regal status as Princess Cassandra anyway, and there had been times in Skandia when she had looked a great deal worse.

"Merkhliné?" asked Will.

"Lady Merkhliné," replied Evanlyn. "A dear cousin of mine who is intent on becoming Queen in the near future."

"Did she… did Alda…" Will's stomach lurched, "_hurt _you?"

Evanlyn laughed. "Oh, she wanted me to call her 'Your Highness.' As if that was going to happen, I am Crown Princess after all."

"Do you think she'll succeed?" Will asked dubiously.

"Of course not!" Evanlyn laughed. "She's mad!" Will relaxed considerably.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, _Princess_" a deep, drawn–out voice sneered. Will looked up to see a wiry, strangely familiar man standing above him.

Evanlyn rolled her eyes. "Will, meet Jerome," she said, putting on her most royal air. "_He _fancies himself King of Araluen, at Lady Merkhliné's side."

"We've met," said Will shortly. Whoever Lady Merkhliné was, Evanlyn clearly didn't take her seriously. And so neither would Will.

"Yes, I daresay we have," drawled Jerome. "Hello, Will."

"So that's why you kidnapped me, as well as Eva – Cassandra," muttered Will. "Childish revenge."

"Oh yes, childish revenge," smirked Jerome, "Although I don't desire revenge anymore. All I want is to see Lady Merkhliné crowned Queen. But Alda was so _determined, _so desperate for childish revenge. So he'll be taking care of you two once Lady Merkhliné and I take our leave."

"Taking your leave?" Evanlyn spat.

"Oh, didn't you know?" Jerome smirked, "There's a Gallican ambassador due to arrive in Court tomorrow."

Evanlyn shuddered. "That proves it," she muttered. "You're all mad."

"Perhaps," replied Jerome, "Well, I'll see you later."

Will glanced at Evanlyn as they watched him leave, and a cold hand clenched his heart. All colour had drained from Evanlyn's face, and her green eyes were wild with fear.

"If Merkhliné goes under her own name," she stammered, "Then she will be recognised as my father's cousin, who is indeed Gallican. If I'm out of action, then, as a member of court, she would be next in line for the throne."

"They won't contact Gallica, to be sure she's legitimate?" asked Will.

"They might," replied Evanlyn, "but I'm sure all messages are being diverted to her allies, being the ones who set it all up, anyway."

"Will they succeed?" wondered Will fearfully.

"They might," replied Evanlyn, turning to her friend. "But if we get out of here, they won't."

* * *

><p>Halt watched the Gallican ambassador with keen eyes. She seemed shy and unsure, as if she was unfamiliar with situations in Court. Of course, she was only nineteen years of age, the same age as Princess Cassandra, who handled herself very well in such situations. But Cassandra had grown up in Court, whereas the young ambassador had probably only recently joined the Service Diplomatique du Gallica<strong>, <strong>(Gallican diplomatic service) and was inexperienced. Her companion, on the other hand, was loud and boisterous, and Halt couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen him before.

Still, Halt remained suspicious. Why would Gallica send someone so young and inexperienced? Unless… Lady Merkhliné was King Duncan's cousin, and next in line for the throne after Princess Cassandra. Were Merkhliné to assume the throne, then Araluen would become a Gallican province. Briefly, Halt wondered if Merkhliné's arrival was somehow connected to the Princess's disappearance. If it was, then that was an act of war.

Of course, it was equally possible that Halt's suspicions were unmerited, but he would continue to be suspicious until Princess Cassandra was safely returned and he was certain of Gallica's intentions.

Lady Merkhliné glanced about her, self–consciously, and Halt immediately drew his gaze away from her. He thought about warning the King, but discarded the idea. Duncan already had too much on his mind at the moment with his daughter's disappearance, and besides, the last thing Halt wanted to do was cause suspicion towards Gallica. But that didn't mean he was going to keep his thoughts to himself.

When the feast finished, and the King half-heartedly declared a dance, Halt watched the ambassador and her companion move together towards the dance floor. He saw Crowley standing a few meters away, and edged over to him. He began to explain in a hushed tone, but Crowley interrupted him.

"I know, Halt, I was thinking the same," he said jovially. "After all, Lady Merkhliné is King Duncan's cousin. Don't whisper, it looks suspicious. Nobody can hear us over all this noise anyway."

"So do you think it may have something to do with Cassandra's disappearance?" asked Halt, forcing himself to laugh.

"It's possible. We should investigate," replied Crowley. "The thing is, if we are seen taking an interest, people will be suspicious."

"We'll ask someone else, then," said Halt. "How about Horace? He's smart enough, and I'd trust him with my life."

"He'd do the trick," replied Crowley, waving his arms to where Horace stood alone in the corner. "How about you talk to him?"

Halt glanced at where the young knight stood. There was an overcast look upon Horace's face. He was quite upset about Evanlyn, Halt knew, but he also knew Horace well enough to know that something was bothering him. "I think I will, before he's swept away by one of the ladies," Halt replied. "I'll see you later, Crowley."

Halt weaved his way over to where Horace stood. "Halt," the young knight greeted him.

"Hello, Horace" replied Halt. "What's bothering you?"

Horace's brow furrowed. "Something really strange. Does the ambassador's companion look at all familiar to you?"

Halt shrugged. "Yes, he does a little. Why?"

"Because," Horace said flatly, "He's Jerome."

Halt's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm certain," replied Horace. "He's changed a lot, but that's him."

"So either things have changed dramatically for Jerome, although that's unlikely considering what Bryn told us," said Halt, "or Merkhliné's an imposter."

"Seems like it. Do you think someone may want war with Gallica?"Horace asked.

"I think," replied Halt, "That somebody fancies herself Queen of Araluen. Lady Merkhliné is the King's cousin."

Horace's eyes widened. "I'll leave for Gallica early tomorrow morning, to make sure she isn't who she says she is. Will you cover for me?"

"I will," replied Halt. "For now, you may want to ask her to dance. See how much you can find out from her."

"Good idea," said Horace. "I'll see you later." With that, the young knight moved to where Lady Merkhliné now sat, fanning herself in the corner of the room.

Halt glanced at Lady Merkhliné, and shook his head. "Silly girl," he muttered.

* * *

><p>Upon Blaze, Gilan's mind raced. Bryn had given him a long and detailed account on how Jerome and Alda were in league with a woman called Merkhliné, who was, in fact, the King's cousin. He understood that she fancied herself Queen of Araluen, and by posing as a Gallican ambassador under her own name, she was the rightful heir, after Evanlyn. So she had kidnapped Evanlyn and Will, and was planning to kill the King.<p>

"How do you know all this?" he asked Bryn.

Upon the young Ranger horse that Old Bob had given him, Bryn laughed. "There's a few of her followers who seem to think I'm one of them," he replied.

"Tell me more about Merkhliné," Gilan said.

"Oh, she's a silly girl" laughed Bryn, "Always looking at a mirror, playing with her hair, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like she'd be a terrible Queen," said Gilan. "How old is she exactly?"

Bryn shrugged. "About nineteen," he replied, "the same age as the Princess."

"Well, she may the same age as Eva – Princess Cassandra," said Gilan, "but I assure you, Cassandra's not nearly so idiotic."

* * *

><p>The next afternoon, Horace came crashing into Halt's room. "Try not to break the door," Halt muttered.<p>

"Nice to see you too, Halt," replied Horace, helping himself to some coffee.

Halt sighed. "Okay, Horace. What did you find out?"

"I talked to a Gallican official," replied Horace. "There is a Lady Merkhliné living in Gallica, but she has nothing to do with courtly affairs and definitely doesn't work for the Service knows nothing of an ambassador in Araluen,and he was genuinely concerned for Princess Cassandra's wellbeing."

"We'd better warn King Duncan," said Halt urgently. But when they reached the King's chambers, he was gone.

**Since Gallica is medieval France, I figured that the relationship between it and Araluen (being medieval England) would be weak. The French and English royal families did intermarry to attempt to prevent wars, so King Duncan could easily have a Gallican cousin.**

**Please Review!**


	8. The New Queen

**Completely Random Piece of Opinionated Information: In my opinion, Will and Evanlyn are an epic duo. I don't mean as a romantic couple, they'd be horrible together. But… they're a brilliant team.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't own Ranger's Apprentice. Do I really need to put one of these things up on every chapter? **

"You look beautiful, _ma reine,_"_ *_ said Jerome, gently brushing Merkhliné's golden locks out of her eyes.

"Thank you, Jerome," replied Merkhliné. "Well, this is it," she huffed. Together, they left Merkhliné's private chambers and made for the throne room.

Lady Merkhliné felt almost guilty as she entered the room, seeing the overcast expressions of King Duncan's councillors, but then shook off the feeling. She'd have to do away with most of them, she realized, and replace them with subjects who were loyal only to her.

Neither Ranger was there. Lady Merkhliné had made sure of that, pretending to be concerned about the King's 'mysterious disappearance' and suggesting that the Ranger Corps spend all the time they could searching for him.

A few solemn words, and the deed was done. The crown now stood firmly upon Merkhliné's head. She smiled. The era of Queen Merkhliné had begun, and it was time to make some changes.

* * *

><p>A cold, harsh hand shook Araluen at the core. No only had the Princess disappeared, but the King as well. And now, some Gallican youth was Queen. Not only that, but she had defiled all that was right and good in Araluen.<p>

Most of the King's supporters had been arrested for 'treason', and were sentenced to be executed. As well as that, Queen Merkhliné sent her best men to plunder several villages, giving the village leaders a choice: Swear fealty to the Queen, or die. If the latter option was chosen, then they would raid the village, brutally murdering every man, woman and child, and taking the village leader and his family back to Castle Araluen for a public execution. If the former option was chosen, the Queen's representatives would choose one young man and one young woman from the village to be shackled and taken to work as slaves for Queen Merkhliné, all the while being told it was an honour.

Yes, the Queen was a tyrant. All who spoke against her were arrested and executed. Hence Halt was keeping quiet, for now. As much as it pained him to sit back and watch Merkhliné wreak havoc in Araluen, he was determined to find Cassandra and to see Merkhliné off the throne. And he couldn't do that if he was dead.

Crowley and Horace had already been arrested, as well as most people Halt was willing to trust. He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to do this on his own. He considered riding to Redmont, both to warn them and to get help, but he discarded the idea. News travelled fast, and Will was probably already on his way. No, Halt would just have to watch and wait.

Bitterly, he turned his mind back to hunting. The castle kitchens weren't in the best state they'd ever been, and he needed to eat.

Halt's ears perked up in alarm, as he heard two horses ride up into the clearing behind him. He relaxed as he heard Abelard whinny in greeting, and turned to see Gilan and Bryn, dismounting.

"Hello, Halt" said Gilan.

"Hello, Gilan," replied Halt. "I take it you've heard about the new Queen?"

"Merkhliné?" asked Gilan, alarmed. "She's queen already?"

"Yes. She's a tyrant," replied Halt. "Most of Duncan's supporters are due to be executed, including Crowley and Horace. Is she who she says she is?"

Bryn's eyes widened. "Yes, she is," he said, "as in, Merkhliné is her real name and she's King Duncan's cousin. But she certainly has nothing to do with Le Service Diplomatique du Gallica."

"How do you know all that?" asked Halt.

Gilan waved it off. "The point is, she's kidnapped Will as well as Evanlyn and has now succeeded in her plot to become queen. So we've got to do something about that."

Halt's heart clenched when he heard Will had also been captured, but he got a hold of himself. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" he asked.

Gilan began to speak, but Bryn interrupted. "Yes, but there's some of Merkhliné's men coming up behind us," he said. "I think we were sighted coming here, and Merkhliné knows both of us. She'll have sent men after us."

"Halt," Gilan choked, "you should go. They'll just keep looking for us until they find us."

The blood rose to Halt's head as opened his mouth to argue, but then reluctantly realized that Gilan was right. He nodded, and melted back among the trees, seething with anger as he watched his former apprentice being dragged away. Merkhliné may not have been on the throne for even a week, but that was far too long according to Halt.

* * *

><p>"Will!" Will's chest jumped. He sat bolt upright, searching desperately for Evanlyn. He spun round, to see her sitting cross-legged beside him. His breath slowed raggedly, and his heart was racing cheetahs. He sighed, relieved to see that Evanlyn was safe.<p>

Will drew in a deep, glorious breath, then released it. "Evanlyn, what's wrong? When I heard you... I thought…"

Evanlyn shook her head. "I only whispered to you, Will. I wasn't expecting you to wake up that quickly. You gave me a fright, just then."

"Guess that makes us even," replied Will. "I thought you were in some kind of danger."

Evanlyn laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. "Well, we're not exactly safe, are we?" she said, gesturing around her. "Although we're probably safer than my father. We're probably safer than the Kingdom."

Catching sight of the meaningful look in her eye, Will glanced about them. "You mentioned escape," he said, dropping his voice.

Evanlyn nodded. "And we need to do it now."

Will's eyes widened. "Now? As in, right this instant? You want to leave _right now?_"

Evanlyn rolled her eyes. "You just asked the same question three times. I see why Halt finds it annoying. Yes, right now."

"O-okay," stuttered Will, "but – why?"

"One," Evanlyn replied, "We've a golden opportunity that's not likely to come again. Alda's fallen asleep, and the other guards won't be here until tomorrow." She gestured to where a big burly man lay snoring and drooling, and Will's heart clenched in cruel recognition. "Two," Evanlyn continued, "the sooner we leave, the more chance we have of stopping Merkhliné. Three, Alda and I already had a bit of a – uh – chat. He's desperate to get his hands on you. And once you're at his mercy, or lack thereof, you're not likely to come out alive."

Will nodded, he's eyes filling with concern at Evanlyn's mention of a 'chat.' "Did Alda hurt you?"

Evanlyn laughed bitterly. "This is Alda we're talking about. He loves to hurt people. And now that you're here, well… he's even more agro then he was before."

"So he did hurt you, Evanlyn," said Will. "Where? Did he hit you?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," said Evanlyn quickly.

"Yes it does, Evanlyn," insisted Will. "I just want to know."

Evanlyn sighed. "He hit me with a plank," she said at last, "and used a horse whip on me. Nothing that shed blood, I'm just very bruised."

Will winced, eyeing her sceptically. "Just bruises, is it?"

Evanlyn shifted uncomfortably. "That's all."

"Then where did that horrible gash on your forehead come from?" Will demanded.

"That? Oh, _that _was Merkhliné. She really doesn't seem to like me," replied Evanlyn casually.

"Let me look at it," said Will, his eyes flashing in determination.

Alda stirred. Evanlyn glanced over to him fearfully, and then shook her head. "Not now, Will," she replied. "We should leave first. Come on, I've gone through their supplies to put together a basic pack."

Will glanced down at his wrists, surprised to see that he was unbound. "I already cut your bonds," said Evanlyn, seeing his quizzical expression, "and Alda forgot to bind me. I think he was drunk. He reeked something awful during our 'chat,' and he swung the whips and boards with incredible strength and ferocity, but kept missing me."

Will cracked a smile. "Well, let's get out of here," he said.

Evanlyn swung the pack of her back, and the two quietly rose. Will beckoned for Evanlyn to follow him, and she nodded, her brow creased in concentration.

_Sharpen your senses, _Halt's voice echoed in Will's mind. _Become aware of every little rustle, every bug crawling in the trees. Try and blend in with that. _He pulled his cowl over his head, and began to move unseen through the trees.

A few minutes later, Will realized he could not hear Evanlyn. He spun around in alarm, only to see that she was right behind him. He heaved a sigh of relief. He gazed at her, accusingly. "Where did you learn to move silently?" he whispered. "Those are Rangers' techniques!"

Evanlyn shrugged. "Geldon has been giving me a few pointers."

"More than a few, I think," muttered Will. "Just – don't – scare me like that again."

"Don't worry," replied Evanlyn. "So long as you can't hear me, you'll know I'm safe. If someone attacks me, I assure you, you'll hear it." She smiled at him, desperately trying to calm him down.

Will nodded, returning her smile, and they began to move through the forest again. As they did so, Will's mind drifted to the old, retired Ranger, Geldon. So Evanlyn had been taking lessons from him? That explained it. Now that Will thought about it, Evanlyn would make an excellent Ranger. She had all the necessary skills for the job. But as well as being too old to start an apprenticeship, she would be the first female ranger, as well as the first ruler to be a Ranger. No, Will thought. There was no way Evanlyn could join the Ranger Corps.

A few hours later, they reached a town. It was an elderly man who saw them first. After calming him down from the initial shock of seeing the missing Crown Princess, accompanied by an apprentice Ranger, he took them in and disguised them.

"I say," he said in a hushed tone. "You can't know how glad I am to see you, Your Highness." He glanced at Evanlyn pitifully. "I don't suppose you know, do you?" he mused. "And to think that I should be the one to tell you…"

Evanlyn's eyes widened in alarm. "Tell me what."

"The – the King's dead," the man stammered. "Well, gone, really. Disappeared. And now some Gallican cousin of his is Queen."

Tears began to well up in Evanlyn's eyes. Desperately, she turned away, searching for a brief moment alone with her grief. Will moved to support her, but she shook him off violently. Suddenly, she was able to contain her tears no longer. "We were too late," she sobbed. "Too late…"

Will turned to the man. "The new Queen. What's she like?"

The man's brows furrowed. "She's about your, age, Your Highness, meaning no disrespect, of course. And she's a tyrant, she is. Queen Merkhliné is worse than Morgarath would have been."

"_Queen_ Merkhliné?" Evanlyn exclaimed. "Never! I am the rightful Queen of Araluen!"

* * *

><p>"Gorlag's saggy left eyelid!" cried Halt, kicking the dirt. So Merkhliné had Will as well as Gilan. To top it, she also had Horace, Crowley, Duncan, Cassandra, everyone he cared about. Almost everyone, that was. He desperately hoped everyone in Redmont was safe and sound, especially Pauline.<p>

Angrily, he kicked the dirt. He needed a plan, he needed leverage. His mind worked fast. Merkhliné had managed to capture both his apprentices, and he was jolly well going to rescue them. Ultimately, he'd have to rescue Cassandra in order to be rid of that tyrannical usurper, which, conveniently, also involved rescuing Will. But first, he'd make contact with the prisoners.

There was a light rustle in the trees. Halt's eyes narrowed. It was barely a whisper, but enough for him to know that there was somebody there. Halt continued to act casually, discreetly eyeing the spot. Whoever it was certainly wasn't a Ranger, but they did know something about silent movement. A second later, much to Halt's surprise and pleasure, Princess Cassandra emerged.

"Halt!" she exclaimed, relief evident in her voice.

Halt glanced at the girl. She was dressed like a peasant in cheap, shabby clothing. "Hello," he said. "I assume you're going by Evanlyn?"

Evanlyn nodded. "Yes. Have you seen Will?"

"Will?" said Halt, trying to mask his surprise. "Nooo, I haven't."

Evanlyn's brow creased in concern. "He was meant to meet me here an hour ago. Maybe he went to look for me when I wasn't there…"

Halt shook his head. "I've been here for the last two hours. But, Evanlyn, Gilan told me you and Will had been captured by Merkhliné. How did you escape?"

"Gilan?" asked Evanlyn, "How did he know?"

Halt huffed. "Don't answer questions with questions, girl. I don't know how he knew, and since he was arrested straight afterwards, I can't ask him. Now, how did you escape?"

"We – we just sort of left. I'll explain later," replied Evanlyn, peering through the trees. Her heart caught insider her throat. "Halt, come and see this."

Halt moved to where she stood, and looked through the trees. In a clearing barely a hundred metres away was Will, being manhandled by two, burly guards. After watching for a few seconds, Halt could see that they were some of Merkhliné's cronies, but they had no clue of who Will was. As far as they were concerned, they were merely picking on a young peasant boy.

Halt glanced at Evanlyn, pressing his finger to his lips. He took off his green and grey mottled cloak and passed it to Evanlyn, who was surprised to see he was wearing ordinary farmers' attire rather than the standard Rangers' tunic.

Halt crashed through the trees towards Will. "Pick on someone your own size," he cried from a safe distance, showering the guards with arrows. "Ruffians! Buffoons!"

Will grinned, breaking free of his captors. They returned to where Evanlyn stood, waiting. Together, the three of them moved out through the bush, until they were satisfied that they were alone.

"Now what are we going to do?" Will groaned, exasperated.

"Technically, Evanlyn's the rightful heir, and her return would immediately remove Merkhliné from the throne," said Halt. "But the court's now full of Merkhliné's supporters."

"So I can't just waltz into the throne room and say, 'Sorry, Lady Merkhliné, but I'm still alive so I'll be taking that crown off you.'" Evanlyn laughed bitterly.

Halt's brow furrowed. "Apparently not," he said, "Evanlyn, is there any way we can get into the cells?

***My Queen (French, otherwise, Gallican)**

**PLEASE REVIEW?!**


	9. The Tunnels

**Long time, no update, I know… I'm very sorry. Hopefully this good, long chapter is worth your while. We're reaching the climax of this tale. I will tell you this… Merkhliné's defeat is not far away, however our characters' problems will be far from rectified…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own nothing**

**Anyho, ON WITH THE FIC!**

In the final year of Gilan's apprenticeship, one particular mission had called for him to disguise himself as an adviser to one of Morgarath's remaining supporters. This resulted in him spending a week in Castle Araluen's dungeons until Halt worked out where he was and managed to get him out. Back then, each prisoner had his or her own completely private cell, but were allowed in a common room for the majority of the day. Each cell had contained a bed and a small table. The prisoners were provided three decent meals each day and three raging fires kept the dungeons warm.

The castle dungeons were still in rather good condition, but it was clear Queen Merkhliné had no intention of keeping them that way. All furniture had been removed from the cells, and the prison guards seemed to be competing to see how many prisoners they could fit in each cell. The only fire that still remained alight was in the common room, away from the cells, which had become the guards' lounge room. And although he had only been in the cell a couple of hours, Gilan was fairly sure the food wouldn't be too good, judging from the fact his cell mates were on the brink of starvation.

Gilan leaned back against the cold wall. Bryn had been flung into a cell on the other end of the corridor, and Gilan vaguely wondered how many people were in that. One figure lay crumpled in the corner, and another man knelt at his side, with his back to Gilan, as he had been since Gilan arrived. Gilan recognized the muscled torso as being that of a knight, but he was yet to see his face. Gilan vaguely recognized the six other people in the cell, all advisers and supporters of King Duncan, who had acknowledged him as being a King's Ranger, but not really paid him any attention.

Sighing, Gilan got to his feet. He might as well do something useful. He moved to the corner, gently kneeling at the unconscious man's side. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

The knight glanced upwards, and Gilan gasped in recognition. "Horace!" he exclaimed. "How are you?"

Horace smiled grimly. There was a nasty gash on the side of his head, and his arms were bruised and battered. "I've been better," he replied. "And you, Gil?"

"Likewise," said Gilan, glancing over the figure between him. He started, in shock. He hadn't seen it at first, with the crumpled, peasant's clothing and the bloodied hair, but the high cheekbones and worn down features were unmistakably those of King Duncan. "What happened?"

Horace shrugged. "How much do you know already?"

"More than you, probably," replied Gilan. "For one thing, I know that Will and Evanlyn are Merkhliné's captives. I'm also told that Merkhliné's chief adviser is a man named Jerome, who I understand you're familiar with."

Horace paused, as what he was being told dawned on him. "Are Will and Evanlyn alive?"

"As far as I know," replied Gilan. "Who else is down here?"

"Crowley was arrested at the same time I was," sighed Horace, "but other than those in this cell, I wouldn't have a clue. I just hope… You haven't seen Halt by any chance, have you?"

"I saw him, just before I was arrested," replied Gilan. "He's safe."

"Good." Horace's shoulders relaxed. "Tell me… is Merkhliné… who she claims to be?"

Gilan leaned back against the wall. "In terms of her identity, yes, but she's got nothing to do with Le Service Diplomatique du Gallica."

"Yes, well, I already knew that," muttered Horace. Gilan raised his eyebrows in questioning. "When she first came after Evanlyn went AWOL, Halt, Crowley and I were a little suspicious. I went to Gallica for a few days, and found they had no knowledge of an ambassador by the name of Merkhliné in Araluen. When I got back, the King had disappeared."

Gilan nodded, and stared in silence at the King's crumpled form. A moment later, the King's eyes began to flicker open. "Cassie," he groaned. "Is she safe?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty," replied Gilan gravely.

The King sat bolt upright, in a way that reminded Horace oddly of Bryn's reaction, when he woke to the memory of what had happened to his own daughter. "Gilan, Horace," he said. "Nice to see you both, but what in Gorlog's name happened?"

Gilan smiled despite himself, recognizing the Skandian term which Halt was rather fond of, but his smile quickly dropped as he and Horace began to explain all that had happened to King Duncan. The King nodded, and listened in silence. Finally, they broke off, leaving the King to his own thoughts.

"Tragic, isn't it?" sighed King Duncan. "But the tale is not yet complete." He gave a shaky laugh. "Aren't I poetic? But, Gilan, I am a little concerned about something…"

"Yes?" asked Gilan.

"You can't fully recover from a serious head wound in three weeks." Duncan replied.

Horace's brow furrowed. "Yes, that's a good point, Gil. Are you sure…"

Now that it was mentioned, Gilan had been feeling quite light-headed, but he put it down to the lack of water he had drunk in the past few days. "It still hurts a little," he confessed, "but it's okay."

King Duncan ruefully inspected the wound. "If you say so. Halt is still on the outside, you said."

"He is. He'll think of something." Gilan replied.

Horace slumped back against the wall. "I'm hungry," he moaned.

* * *

><p>The mud squelched beneath them, as Halt, Will and Evanlyn eased their way into the small tunnel. Evanlyn went first, climbing into the tiny tube. A cold hand clenched her heart as she was enveloped in darkness. Dimly, she was aware of Will and Halt clambering in behind her. She felt the cold mud seep through her skirt, and she began to sludge forward.<p>

Will forced a chuckle. "Well, this tunnel isn't in brilliant condition."

"It hasn't been used in hundreds of years," replied Evanlyn. "Besides, we can't have it maintained, as that would involve revealing the secret. No-one outside the royal family knows about these tunnels."

"The royal family, plus two," Will reminded her.

"True," said Evanlyn.

"Well, that's all well and good, so long as this tunnel doesn't cave in on us," Halt snorted.

Will gave a shaky laugh. "Oh, come on, Halt. These tunnels are too strong for that. Aren't they, Evanlyn?"

Evanlyn's silence was deafening.

* * *

><p>As the tunnel wore on, the mud got thicker. The tunnel seemed to be getting darker by the minute, although they had passed the point of pitch black ten minutes ago.<p>

Will continued through the sludge, no longer paying attention to Evanlyn before him or Halt behind him. Something above him was dripping, and he felt cool liquid trickle down his spine. Something flew into his eye, and he blinked rapidly to get it out, remembering with a split second to spare not to use his hand to wipe his eye. After a moment, he realized he may as well keep his eyes closed, he couldn't see anything anyway.

"How much longer, Evanlyn?" he croaked. Pure silence greeted him. A shiver ran down Will's spine. "Evanlyn?" he called again. "Halt?" Silence. He was on his own. But he had been between Halt and Evanlyn before, and it was illogical to suppose that they had just fallen so far apart. Unless… Evanlyn had mentioned a point where the tunnel branched into two. She knew one went to the dungeons, but didn't know where the other led.

Tentatively, Will tried to turn around, but found the tunnel was too narrow. Besides, how would he know where to turn when the tunnel branched again? He decided to take his chances. He squeezed his eyes tight shut and kept going.

* * *

><p>After what seemed like a week, a dim light began to shine through the end of the tunnel, and Evanlyn released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She reached out, feeling the air in front of her, until her hand landed on a small doorhandle. "We're here," she said. She heard Halt coughing and sputtering something, but she ignored him. Gently, she turned the doorknob in the combination that her father had told her. The trapdoor creaked open, spraying her face with dust. Sighing, she emerged out into the light. After a second, Halt followed her, fuming.<p>

Evanlyn's heart leapt to her throat. "Where's Will?"

Halt shook his head. "That's what I was trying to tell you before. I don't know. Are you sure you don't remember where the other tunnel led?"

Evanlyn's eyes widened. "You don't think…"

"Well, he certainly didn't stop for a coffee break," grunted Halt, "although that's a very good idea."

"He doesn't know the combination," said Evanlyn. "_I _don't know the combination for that tunnel."

"He'll be fine," said Halt, gruffly. "Aren't you going to deal with the guards?"

Evanlyn nodded, accepting the water-bottle Halt offered. She washed her face and brushed the dirt from her hair. Halt drew a small package from his cloak, handing it to Evanlyn, who then turned on her heel and strode into the dungeon corridor. Halt drew his cowl over his face and followed, moving unseen through the shadows.

Evanlyn frowned, as she glanced about herself. There were meant to be guards in this corridor. Then she heard laughter from what used to be the prisoners' common room. She plastered a suggestive smile upon her face, and minced daintily into the room.

The fire roared, and five laughing guards reclined around it, seven empty bottles between them. "Hello, boys," purred Evanlyn, flicking her hair flirtatiously.

Briefly, Halt was concerned Evanlyn would do her job a little too well, and that the guards would take advantage of her, but then relaxed. She had enough good judgement to handle herself. Nevertheless, he snuck a little further into the room, his hand lightly touching his Saxe Knife.

The guards began to whistle, and Evanlyn continued to walk daintily into the room, and opened the package. "Hey guys. You want some cookies?"

"Bring them here," one guard called rudely.

"Come sit with me," a second guard called jovially. "There's plenty of room for a pretty lass like you."

Evanlyn blushed, twirling her hair. She went to sit beside the second guard, offering around the cookies. In seconds, all the guards were asleep. Halt stepped out of the shadows.

"How did I do?" asked Evanlyn.

Halt snorted. "The guards are unconscious, and they'll stay that way for the next six hours, at least, dreaming of… you. I'd say you were successful, but you didn't have to flirt with them."

"I had to be believable," replied Evanlyn indignantly.

Halt shook his head. "Why? They'll have no memory of you when they wake. And I'm sure they'd still take the cookies even if they were a bit suspicious."

Evanlyn shrugged. "What's a job if it's not done properly? Besides, I had to make up for the fact that I'm covered in mud."

Halt snorted. "Did you get the keys?"

"I got them," replied Evanlyn, moving to unlock the cell to their right.

* * *

><p>There was a rustle at the door. Gilan looked up from his position in the corner of the room, to see the keyhole was turning.<p>

"So they decided to bring us something to eat, finally," grunted Horace.

"That's what I'm hoping, but not necessarily" replied Gilan grimly. "We've got an execution coming up, remember?"

Slowly, they rose to their feet. The door creaked open, and a mud-drenched teenage girl entered the room.

"Evanlyn!" Horace exclaimed, enveloping her in a bear hug.

"Hello, Horace," said Evanlyn, her lips curling up into a smile.

The broke apart, and Horace held his friend at arm's length. "You look terrible! How did you get here? You weren't arrested, that's for sure. I thought you were captured by Merkhliné. Did you escape? Evanlyn, your arms are bruised all over. Where did that gash on your forehead come from?"

"Whoa, Horace," said King Duncan from the corner of the room. "Would you allow me to greet my daughter?"

"Father!" Evanlyn exclaimed. "I thought – I thought you were dead!"

"And I thought the same, of you," replied the King, drawing his daughter into his arms. Dutifully, Horace stepped aside, his face still full of unasked questions. The King and his daughter exchanged a muffled conversation, as Duncan gently stroked the Princess's hair. Finally, they broke apart, their eyes rich with tears.

As they separated, Horace squinted quizzically. King Duncan's brow was furrowed in concern, and there was a worried, meaningful look in Evanlyn's eye. Briefly, he wondered what exactly they had said to one another, but then shrugged it off. He had clearly been spending too much time with Rangers.

A grizzled Ranger appeared in the doorway. "Are you planning to come out of there any time soon?"

Gilan grinned. "Hello, Halt."

Halt huffed. "Hello, Gilan. Good to see you." He turned back to Evanlyn. "Everyone's waiting for you in the next cell. We'd use the common room, but I'd rather not try our luck too much with the guards."

Evanlyn nodded, and turned to follow Halt, motioning for the others to do the same. Once out of the room, she quickened her pace to catch up with him. "What about Will?" she whispered.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Halt reassured her, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

Evanlyn sighed. "I asked my father where the other tunnel led to. He didn't know, but he said…"

Halt groaned. "Finish your sentences, girl. What did he say?"

"A few days before Merkhliné took him prisoner, he found a trapdoor in the floor of the advisers' room. He thought it might be the other end of the tunnel. The thing is, the door didn't have a combination.

Halt laughed. "Then Will should be joining us shortly."

Gilan followed after Evanlyn and Halt, suddenly feeling very light-headed. He shook off the sensation, and ignored the throbbing pain in the side of his head. He briefly wondered if King Duncan was right, and that he hadn't fully recovered, but he shrugged off the thought. It was no use worrying everyone else, especially given their current situation. Besides, it was likely he was having a headache, nothing more. He sidled into the next cell.

Bryn looked up from the corner, a wry smile crossing his lips, and Gilan was relieved to see his companion. Crowley had already entered into an animated discussion with Halt. He moved to sit beside Bryn, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Gilan spun around, to see Sir David behind him.

"Father," said Gilan, realizing that he had not seen Sir David since his suspension from the Ranger Corps. "How are you?"

Much to Gilan's surprise, Sir David drew him into a bear hug. "Hello, Gilan," he said, "you haven't been well, have you?"

"I've been fine, father," Gilan replied, returning David's embrace.

David released him, eyeing him sceptically. "Of course you have. I'm sure that near-fatal head injury of yours hasn't inconvenienced you in the slightest."

"What… but how did you know about that?" asked Gilan.

"Halt told me," stated Sir David.

Gilan's face dropped. "Oh. And did he also tell you about…"

David's features softened. "Your suspension from the corps? Yes, he told me. It was part of the reason I didn't come to see you. I didn't think you'd want to see me."

A wry smile crossed Gilan's lips. "And you weren't too keen on seeing me either, I'm sure."

Sir David laughed bitterly. "I won't pretend otherwise, Gilan. I was pretty mad at you. And I was afraid that if I came to see you, I'd slow your recovery by getting mad."

Gilan shrugged. "I was pretty mad at myself. All that has more to do with our current situation then you think. Anyway… it's good to see you."

**There are… hints… about future events within this chapter. If you have any theories, leave them in a review! If you don't have any theories, review anyway! Please? Also, I'm looking to start a new story, so PLEASE VOTE ON MY POLL? Thank you.**


	10. The Plan

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far, including Chopstick Legend, FishinAFadora, Emma, Sh'rah, Mychele O'Carrick of Clonmel, Cocoa85715, Raider1472, Nette, Muha4, Tejana, Hibernian Princess, Child of the True King and a Guest reviewer! Your comments are much appreciated XD**

**Also, it just occurred to me that there wouldn't be enough oxygen in the tunnels underneath Castle Araluen, and that Halt, Will and Evanlyn would have suffocated before long. So, for the plot's sake, let's say there's a system of ventilation pipes in the tunnels, in order to prevent this from happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this largely Will-centric chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

Will continued to crawl forward, alone in the tunnel. Fear clenched at his heart. He had no idea where this tunnel led. What if it led to the throne room, or to Merkhliné's private chambers? Or worse, what if he couldn't open the trapdoor and he wasn't able to turn back? An image come to mind of himself dying alone in the dark, wet tunnel, deep within the walls of Castle Araluen. He wondered how long it would take, lying there, waiting until he starved to death. Maybe he could collapse the ventilation pipes to quicken the process… He shook the thought from his mind. He'd find a way to force open the trapdoor and sneak into the dungeons another way. He continued to sludge forward.

Will's heart jumped as his hand fell through empty space. Breathing hard, it took him a second to regain his balance. He felt the space in front of him experimentally. There was nothing. Panicking, he reeled backwards, only to somersault forward, and plummet down into the unknown depths. A couple of seconds later, he thudded against the bottom. He began to see the red veins in his eyes. Forcing his eyelids open, he saw light. _The light at the end of the tunnel, _he thought. It was ironic that he may well die just there. Nonetheless, he edged forward, and pushed gently at the end of the trapdoor. It swung open. He blinked, as his eyes adjusted to the light. Cautiously, he peered out.

Will stared into a large, circular room. A large table with gold lining stood in the centre. An enormous chandelier hung above, made from the finest of glass. He blinked in surprise, recognizing the lavish decorations. This was the King's personal advisers' room. Suddenly, the jewelled, arc-shaped doors swung open, and Queen Merkhliné entered, Jerome at her heels.

Quickly, Will ducked back into the tunnel. Without really thinking, he closed the trapdoor, and pressed his ear against it.

"What do you mean, Cassandra escaped?" Merkhliné's voice shrilled. "Vraiment! Can Alda not accomplish anything?"

"I'm as distressed as you are, Your Majesty," drawled Jerome's decidedly calmer voice. "We cannot afford to lose our heads, however."

"I have not lost my head," Merkhliné shouted back. "Jerome, I will not see that girl on my throne! I did not wish to leave that _imbecile _in control! But because you trust him so blindly, so foolishly…"

"Alda has been my friend since we were fifteen," Jerome replied coldly. "Since we were expelled from the Battleschool in Redmont, he has been my only friend."

"_He has been my only friend," _Merkhliné mimicked. "Your only friend besides Bryn, of course. And did you not also trust him? He betrayed us! Alda will betray us too, only accidently because he is a fool!"

"Do not speak of him in such a way!" Jerome shot back. "Don't you dare compare him to Bryn! He's nothing of the sort! He may not be the brightest chip of the block, but let me tell you, he is infinitely loyal to you!"

Silence hung between them for a moment, until Merkhliné broke it. "Are you threatening me Jerome?"

"No, Your Majesty," replied Jerome, slightly disconcerted by her reaction. "I only meant…"

"Besides," interrupted Merkhliné, taking advantage of Jerome's discomfort. "He's only loyal because you promised him knighthood. And I am no longer sure that I wish to knight him!"

"Your Majesty, step back from anger," said Jerome, sounding troubled. "You cannot suspect Alda of disloyalty when Will was in his custody also?"

"Will?" asked Merkhliné. "Oh, Ranger Halt's apprentice. I suppose you're right. It would be inconsistent and silly of me to suppose he has somehow gained enough maturity to abandon his childish grudge. Nonetheless, Alda may be arriving at Castle Araluen tomorrow morning, but he must prove his worth before I knight him!"

Within the wall, Will tensed. So Jerome and the Queen knew of his and Evanlyn's escape. His heart sunk. They had lost the element of surprise. He wasn't particularly surprised, as Alda could easily have sent a rider ahead of him with a message.

"That is fair enough, Your Majesty," he heard Jerome reply. "But we have wasted enough time already. Sit down, and let us decide what we are to do about the matter." There was a slight rustle as Merkhliné sat. "Do you trust my judgement, My Lady?" Jerome continued.

"Of course, Jerome," the Queen sighed. "I would never have undertaken this project were it not for you. I have done everything you asked of me."

"That you have, Merkhliné, that you have," replied Jerome. "I'll reschedule the execution to tomorrow morning, at dawn. If our prisoners hear that Cassandra is still living, we're guaranteed trouble."

"And that shall send a clear message to Cassandra," Merkhliné said. "It will perhaps cause her to hesitate, at least. My only fear is that the people will revolt… the execution may well give them a cause."

Jerome sighed. "My dear Merkhliné, you are trying to think like them, for which I commend you. But the execution will only strike fear and hopelessness into their hearts."

"Unless Cassandra declares herself, which she will," replied Merkhliné, sounding distressed. "That will give them something to fight for. Jerome, I don't _want _to be a tyrant!"

"But you do want to be powerful?" Jerome reasoned.

"I want to be liked! I want the world to see me as a fair and just queen!" Merkhliné shot back.

"Don't be foolish!" Jerome replied, his voice hard. "You know you can't have that! Not yet! It's this or nothing, Merkhliné."

"But to kill all these people? To plunder villages? C'est horrible, Jerome!" Merkhliné cried.

"Don't be a fool, Merkhliné," replied Jerome replied coldly. "Such attitudes will have you off the throne before you know it. I'll make the arrangements for the execution tomorrow morning."

A chair scraped, and footsteps ran towards the door.

"Why do you always override me, Jerome," Merkhliné called.

The footsteps stopped. "Where would you be without me, Merkhliné?" replied Jerome, before continuing out the door.

Will heard Merkhliné sigh heavily, then get up and continue out the door.

Will waited a few minutes, and then climbed out of the tunnel. He let go of the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, relieved at finally being out in open space. Aware that he was tracking mud around the room, he took off his cloak. The Ranger cloaks were waterproof, and apparently they were relatively mud-proof, too. Underneath the cloak, he was still dirty, but not conspicuously so.

Reluctantly, he folded up his cloak, and placed it back in the tunnel. Unseen movement would be more difficult now, but not impossible. He paused, and took off his boots, realizing that they too would leave behind him a trail of mud. He placed them in the tunnel with his cloak and closed the door, resolving to come back for them later.

Quietly, Will slipped out of the room. Perhaps he could go down to the dungeons, disguised as a servant. His mind raced, as he played back the Jerome and Merkhliné's conversation in his mind. Clearly, Jerome wanted a puppet. He was able to deduce that Merkhliné wanted the throne, and would do anything to get it. She had accepted Jerome's support enthusiastically, although Will suspected that the thought of taking the throne for herself had been Jerome's idea in the first place.

Two, finely dressed men swept into the corridor. Automatically, Will lowered his eyes and slumped his shoulders. One of the men stopped in front of him. "Who're you?" the man grunted. Will frowned at man's rough accent. Clearly, he was one of Merkhliné's advisers, unfamiliar with courtly affairs.

The other man laughed. "Probably just one of them slaves from the villages," he replied in an equally unrefined accent. He pushed Will back roughly. "Go down to the training ground and take this to the captain," he said, handing Will a thick, heavily jewelled sword that would make Sir Rodney shudder. "Be quick about it, or I'll have you beaten!"

Will nodded, and quickly bowed. He wasn't sure if the bow was necessary, but it pleased the men. He continued down the corridor, allowing himself a small smile. Of course, his dirty clothes and bare feet did resemble that of one of Merkhliné's slaves. But now he had a purpose, a disguise.

He climbed down several flights of stairs, and entered the courtyard. He walked purposely through the courtyard until he reached the training ground.

Will gasped. The training ground was full with thousands of warriors. He even recognised a few of the faces, faces he and Halt had arrested in the past. He identified people from all over the world in the crowd, including Araluens, Gallicans, Nihon-Jans, Celts and Skandians. Merkhliné had gathered a diverse army of common criminals, all desperate for revenge – a powerful force indeed. He swallowed, and then quickly delivered the sword to the captain.

As he exited the training ground, one soldier threw a basket of weapons at him, and told him to sharpen them. Will nodded, smiling to himself, inspecting the large array of firearms. He'd sharpen them, all right, but he had no intention of giving them back.

* * *

><p>Halt wringed his hands exasperatedly, glaring around the room. Two hours they'd been in the pit of the cell. And what had they accomplished? Nothing! Sure, they had discussed constantly, argued, tossed ideas back and forth, but they'd come up with no plan, or at least nothing tangible. And to make matters worse, Will was who-knew-where, lost in the deep abyss of the tunnels. Unless, of course, he had made it out, as Halt knew he would. Will would get out, and find some other way into the dungeons. Halt had complete faith in his apprentice, but he was still worried nonetheless.<p>

As if on cue, the cell door swung open, and Will entered, carrying with him a large basket of weapons, and dropping them on the floor.

"Will!" Horace cried joyfully, jumping to his feet and thudding the Apprentice Ranger on the back. He then set to work gathering up the various firearms from the floor, and Will vaguely wondered if it was himself Horace was so excited to see, or the weapons.

Other people surged forward, pulling Will into the room, the dungeon walls filling with joy and laughter. Amidst everything, Evanlyn pounced on Will, hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered. "How did you get the weapons?"

"I'll explain later," Will replied, returning her embrace. "I found out a few things."

Evanlyn's eyes perked in interest, and she broke away from him. "Like what?" she asked, quickly turning to Gilan, who was approaching beside her. "Gilan, Will found out a few things!"

Gilan heaved in a deep breath. "Quiet!" he roared.

Instantly, the room faded into silence. Silence, apart from, of course, the ringing in Will's ears. Gorlog, Gilan was loud.

Gilan indicated his young friend. "While running amuck in Castle Araluen, Will was able to find out a few things," he spoke, calmly and clearly. "Tell them, Will. Start at the beginning and leave nothing out."

Speaking quickly at first, but then slowing to a clear, detailed tone of voice, Will recounted all the events since he had found himself alone in the tunnel. The others watched him, their brows furrowing in concern and interest. Eventually, he broke off, leaving the others to their own deductions.

"So," King Duncan said thoughtfully, "it sounds to me like Merkhliné is something of a puppet."

"A puppet, yes," added Halt, "but she's certainly not without her own motivations. Will caught her at one of her weaker moments, and I suspect her emotions were running away with her. She's still dangerous. A puppet she may be, but we shouldn't underestimate her."

"No, you're right," the King added thoughtfully. "So, what do we know?"

"We know that we're being executed tomorrow," Gilan said slowly. "That is, all of us, except for the King, as I doubt they'd be stupid enough to kill him in public. And not Halt, Will and Evanlyn either, because they're technically not meant to be here." Gilan rose shakily to his feet. "I think… I have a plan."

All eyes turned toward the suspended Ranger. Gilan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Alarmingly, he swayed. Immediately, Sir David shot up beside him, taking a firm grip of his son's upper arm.

"Explain later," said the Battlemaster gruffly. "You need to lie down."

**Well! In my original plan for this story, Gilan said 'I think I have a plan' about five chapters ago! How things change… I don't know how long until the next chapter will come, but I hope it will be well worth the wait… There's some definite action coming! Feel free to theorize! Please Review! Constructive criticism is always welcome and highly appreciated!**


	11. The Duel

**Hi Everyone *smiles sheepishly* yeah, it's been a long time since I last updated this. Almost a year, in fact. I AM sorry, and all I have to say is that I've been VERY busy. But I hope this double update will make up for it.**

**I can't promise this won't happen again. However, I can promise that I WILL finish this story, however long it takes me. **

**Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted/etc! there are review replies at the end of the next chapter :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Sad, sad story: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice :'(**

The final details of the plan were laid out, and the prisoners hid the weapons underneath their clothing. They returned to their cells, and Evanlyn locked them in before returning the keys to the sleeping guards. One way or another, the fate of Araluen would be determined tomorrow.

The next day, several guards came down to the cells. The prisoners feigned shock and surprise, but secretly their minds were racing with what they knew they must do. Adrenalin coursed through their veins as they were led to the castle courtyard. On many an occasion, they found themselves glancing at each other anxiously. What if something went wrong with the plan? What if Cassandra didn't make it to the courtyard on time? What if… but it was fruitless to worry, so they focused their minds on the task at hand.

They were led into the palace courtyard. Dawn broke, and they stood resolutely before the looming gallows. It was time.

* * *

><p>A cold, harsh wind blew into the palace courtyard. An air of sobriety hung over the townspeople. That morning, at dawn, there was to be yet another terrible demonstration of Queen Merkhliné's power. King Duncan's last remaining supporters were to be executed, and with them all hope of Araluen ever regaining her freedom.<p>

Shortly before dawn, many locals rose, dressed themselves and went to stand outside the courtyard, loyal to Duncan to the last. Most, however, closed their shutters and waited inside their homes until the terrible deed was done.

Dawn struck. One by one, the prisoners were led out, their hands tightly bound as they ceremoniously marched their last procession towards the gallows.

At first, there were only a few spectators – an old butcher and his wife, and a rowdy though uncharacteristically quiet group of schoolboys. As the time went by, the crowd steadily increased.

As planned, Evanlyn was amongst the first to enter the courtyard. The plan required her to be reasonably close to the front, but she couldn't risk being recognized. Merkhliné, Jerome, Alda, and most of Merkhliné's senior guards knew her on sight, and from what Will had said about the discussion he had overheard, she was fairly sure they'd be on the lookout for her.

She waited until there was a decent sized crowd before she entered, sticking particularly close to one family with a son a few years younger than her. No doubt the family thought her strange, but it helped her to blend in better. Hopefully they wouldn't feel too disconcerted. She covered her face with a shawl, and wore a long-sleeved dress to hide her wounds. She couldn't afford to be recognized, until the time was right.

In an attempt to blend in, she began flirting with the group of schoolboys. They responded in good humour, but half-heartedly. Finally, she gave it up and broke away from them, going back to stand with her 'family'. As she left, she overheard one of the boys saying, "She's the same age as Merkhliné _and _Cassandra, and… that just reminds me of everything, you know?"

Will and Halt were hidden from view, blending with the green landscape of the courtyard. They were positioned on opposite sides of the courtyard, hidden from view, their deadly longbows in hand.

Finally, a trumpet sounded, and Merkhliné and Jerome entered onto a porch above the gallows. "By Order of the Queen," Jerome began, "these people have been convicted of treason, and on this morning, are sentenced to death."

A loud, rugged voice rang out. "Treason, my foot!" Evanlyn stepped back in surprise as the father of the family she was with tore through the crowd. "The Queen, my foot!" He turned to the townspeople. "The only 'Queen' I'll ever think about supporting is Cassandra! These here are our King Duncan's most faithful followers." He gestured wildly at those in the gallows. "Of course, that was before he 'disappeared,' just after this Gallican wretch found herself next in line for the throne, after the Crown Princess's 'mysterious disappearance!' Not so mysterious if you ask me! This was planned, mark my words. This is a dirty, Gallican plan!"

Evanlyn studied him in curiosity. He was older then she'd originally thought, and his tattered shirt and straw hat suggested he was a farmer. Perhaps he was from one of the villages that had been raided.

"Seize him!" Merkhliné shrilled. As the guards closed in on the poor, brave man and his terrified family, Evanlyn forced her way through the crowd. It was show time.

"Stop!" Cassandra commanded, stepping in front of the farmer. "In the name of the Queen, I order you to stop!"

The guards stopped, glancing uncertainly from Merkhliné to Cassandra. Merkhliné blinked. "What – incomparable – insolence!" she gasped. "How dare you contradict my orders in _my own name!_"

The guards nearest to Cassandra stepped towards her, grabbing her arms. Immediately, they fell over, Will and Halt's arrows protruding from their bodies.

"Ah," sighed Cassandra, "my guardian angel." She blew a kiss in Will's direction. "I believe you had a warrant for Ranger Halt and his apprentice? That would be them." She paused, smiling in amusement. She knew exactly what Halt would be thinking about her use of dramatics. "Oh, and sweetie, I wasn't contradicting your orders in _your_ name." She swept off her shawl. "I was contradicting them in _mine._"

Merkhliné's mouth hung open. "Cassandra," she spat, her mind racing. "Finally decided to show your face, have you? After leaving _your country_ to its own devices, abandoning Araluen on a selfish whim just when She needed you most? You disgust me!"

Cassandra reeled back. It was a believable lie, after all – she did have a reputation for being both headstrong and carefree. "I'm sorry about that," she shouted back. "Being kidnapped by my psychotic cousin wasn't really in my plans."

Merkhliné sneered, ignoring her. "I worked hard to rebuild this country after your father's death. I, a Gallican, poured everything into the well-being of the people. And where were you? Frolicking with that Ranger boy of yours!" She turned to the townspeople. "What? You thought it was a coincidence that Princess Cassandra and Ranger Halt's apprentice 'disappeared' at the same time? This woman cares nothing for you!"

"That's not true!" replied Cassandra, anger rising within her. "I - ", but Merkhliné cut her off.

"You're not fit to rule this kingdom!" she shouted. "I can't bear to think what would happen to Araluen if the crown ever fell to you!"

No-one noticed as the prisoners held up their hands, allowing the Rangers to shoot through their bonds. In fact, the guards didn't so much as acknowledge the escaped prisoners until they started attacking them. The battle that followed was a quick one, in which no lives were taken. Somehow, it ended with Princess Cassandra and Lady Merkhliné standing on the balcony together, Cassandra holding Merkhliné against the wall.

"You've plundered villages," Cassandra growled. "You've killed innocent people, including, I believe, my father." She released the other girl. "You think you'd be a better queen then me? Fine." She walked to the end of the balcony. "A duel then," she declared. "Whoever wins takes the throne of Araluen. "We'll meet in the courtyard tomorrow at dawn, you may use any weapons you choose. I'll see you then."

Merkhliné blinked. "I – reserve the right to appoint a champion," but Cassandra shook her head.

"Araluen does not need a queen who will hide behind her men," she replied.

"Nor does she need a queen who will throw her life away on a whim, as you have demonstrated so many times!" Merkhliné replied coldly.

Cassandra shrugged. "I didn't say it was a battle to the death."

"If I win, that's what it will be," Merkhliné threatened.

Cassandra shrugged. "So be it," she replied, turning and walking away, leaving behind a shaking Merkhliné. As she walked into the courtyard, she was greeted by hundreds of cheers. She smiled, waving at the crowd of people.

Bryn watched on as the young Princess emerged, his heart rising. "Oh, she's brilliant," he grinned, turning to Gilan.

"Hmm?" Gilan replied, slightly groggily. "Oh, Evanlyn? Yeah, she's pretty good." Actually, Gilan hadn't heard much of Evanlyn's speech. He'd gotten that she'd challenged Merkhliné to a duel (A duel? Really?) but beyond that, he hadn't been able to get past the pounding in his head. Why did it hurt this much? Black dots danced before his eyes, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness.

"Let's hope she's good enough." Bryn jumped at the sound of Halt's gruff voice in his ear, but Gilan showed no surprise.

"Oh, hello, Halt. You scared me," Bryn breathed. "Gilan and I were just… are you okay, Gilan?"

Gilan didn't remember responding, but he must have, if Bryn's indignant "As if" and Halt's gruff "Liar" was anything to go by. He allowed Halt to grab his arm and lead him away.

* * *

><p>Tears streamed down Merkhliné's face as she hurled yet another vase at the wall. "Je la deteste!" she screamed. "Je déteste tout la monde! Je déteste tous les choses!"<p>

"I thought you liked those vases," a familiar drawl rang out.

She spun around, to see Jerome standing behind her. "Yes, well, I changed my mind," she said, beginning to pace. "The clay is far too poorly moulded. They break far too easily. Besides," she sneered sourly, "if Cassandra ever gets to come back here, I don't want it to be just the way she left it. I want her to remember me."

"I think she'd struggle to forget you," Jerome replied.

Merkhliné collapsed into the chair. "Jerome, the duel… I'm not sure I can…" she burst into another heap of sobs.

Jerome gathered the young queen into his arms. "It's all right, my love," he soothed. He leaned in, and whispered something into her ear. Merkhliné's features brightened considerably.

"Where would I be without you, Jerome?" she wondered, pressing herself against him.

* * *

><p>"What were you thinking?" Halt exploded at Evanlyn. "What gave you the bright idea to risk <em>your<em> _life_ to humiliate Merkhliné!"

Evanlyn shrugged. "You think it's a risk to my life?" she asked from where she sat between Will and Crowley in the one of the tents they'd set up a short distance from Castle Araluen.

Halt rounded on her. "She did say she'd kill you if she won. Are you so sure you can beat her?"

Will glanced between them. "If I had to bet on one of them, I'd put my money on Evanlyn," he interjected.

Halt swung his glare onto his apprentice. "Well, there's a bit more at stake here than your money." He turned back to Evanlyn. "The fate of _the entire kingdom_ is at stake!"

Evanlyn stared at him. "Did you really think taking back the throne was going to be easy, Halt? You've seen Merkhliné's army."

Halt frowned. "No, but…"

"Our army is in pieces at the moment," Evanlyn continued, "we can't afford to go to battle. Besides…" she trailed off.

"Besides?" Halt prompted, still not impressed.

"You heard what Merkhliné said about me," Evanlyn told him. "It was a very believable lie, because part of it… was true. I need to show that… I can be trusted. That I do care about the kingdom, and… that people can rely on me to fight for them."

Silence hung, as Halt studied the princess. Eventually, he nodded. "Okay."

* * *

><p>An hour before dawn, Princess Cassandra arrived at the courtyard, dressed in riding pants and a light, cotton blouse. She was only lightly armed, with a saxe knife and sling attached to her belt. A sabre hung at her side. Officially, only a small group accompanied her, including Halt, Horace, Sir David and Crowley. Unofficially, Gilan and Will were there as well. All members of the public were welcome to watch the duel itself, but were asked to give the contestants space in the hours before the duel. For half an hour, Cassandra sparred lightly with Horace and Gilan, as she prepared herself for the coming battle.<p>

Dawn struck, and Merkhliné emerged into the courtyard, wearing a light, satin dress, heavily armed. Her features were decorated with uncertainty, and she glanced back at Jerome, fearfully.

The duel began. The clanging of weapons lasted ten minutes, before Merkhliné was left kneeling on the ground, the point of Cassandra's sword against her neck.

* * *

><p>Lady Merkhliné of Gallica was seething for revenge. She'd never taken well to humiliation.<p>

She'd had no trouble slipping into the dungeons, and even less trouble approaching the sleeping, exhausted Duncan. The man didn't look as if he could survive a common cold. Much less an overdose of medicine.

Gently, she shook the King awake. As Duncan blinked rapidly, trying to gain some sense of his own whereabouts, she tilted his head back and poured the liquid down his throat. "Water," she told him gently. Groggily, the King nodded, and then sunk back into a sea of unconsciousness.

So Cassandra wanted to be queen? Fine. If Merkhliné was expected to clear the way for her, she was damn well going to do it properly.

* * *

><p>Cassandra had not previously thought that keeping a good quality, expensive, fit-for-a-princess dress was really a priority. The thing was, riding pants and a dark green cloak weren't really appropriate attire for one's coronation. Not that her coronation was going to be a particularly grand affair. Merkhliné was still a threat, after all, and could chose to strike back at any time. Traditionally, a monarch's coronation was a big event, involving weeks of festivals and celebration. This time, however, the quicker the deed was done, the better. Still, she had to keep up appearances.<p>

In the end, it didn't matter, really. The news that Merkhliné was using force to retain the throne, and that Castle Araluen was surrounded by her army, came in the form of a young boy. Ah well, she hadn't expected Merkhliné to play by the rules.


	12. The Battle

**So… I find myself in the odd position of having nothing to say! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like John Flanagan?**

Sighing, Gilan lifted the glass of bitter tasting medicine. He'd diluted it with water, but it made little difference. Quickly, he skulled the bitter tasting liquid, then followed it with a mouthful of wine to be rid of the foul taste left in his mouth. There was a tasteless variety of the medicine, which the Doctor had also given him. However, he preferred to get the other bottle over and done with.

Immediately after their dramatic escape from the gallows yesterday morning, Halt had taken Gilan by the arm and dragged him to the nearest physician. The doctor had prescribed medicine to both dull the pain and to help stimulate the blood flow to his head, and given him some ointment to apply to the wound.

"I don't think there's any risk of infection anymore," the doctor had assessed. "Whoever treated you did well. You aren't showing any symptoms of a haemorrhage, so I think you just haven't allowed yourself time to recover from the original wound." The physician's eyes became grave. "It's vital that you do."

"That might be a little difficult at the moment," Gilan replied.

"Of course, but take it as easy as you can," the doctor insisted. "Oh, and the medicine can cause a serious haemorrhage if you overdose, so don't. Just be sure to take it three times a day, and apply the ointment at least five times,"

"I'll make sure he does," Halt had replied gruffly.

Shortly afterwards, Gilan and Will had been reunited with Blaze and Tug, which came as a great relief to Gilan. With Blaze by his side, he was far more confident. The news that Merkhliné was using force to retain the throne hadn't exactly come as a surprise, but it was devastating nonetheless. Many of the townspeople had been evacuated to the countryside. Fortunately, they had been able to scavenge some form of an army… many knights and former soldiers who had been laying low had come to Princess Cassandra's camp, pledging their loyalty. Nonetheless, they were still outnumbered three-to-one by Merkhliné's army.

However, what Merkhliné had in numbers, she lacked in strategy. Will had investigated the strength of the armies, again disguised as a young slave boy, and had found that Merkhliné was relying on brute strength to win the battle.

A small smile crossed Gilan's lips as he caressed the beautifully crafted longbow lying across the table. At least one good thing had come to pass as a result of this mess… he had been reinstated as a Ranger.

"The good thing about the law," Crowley had said, "is that, in desperate circumstances, you can twist it ever so slightly. In the necessary documents, I'll record that you 'showed invaluable initiative prior to the battle,' and the battle itself can pass as your probation period. Congratulations, Gilan, once this is over, you'll be a fully-fledged Ranger once more."

On that note, Gilan was due in Evanlyn's tent in an hour, to discuss battle strategy. And strategy would be everything in the upcoming battle.

* * *

><p>Merkhliné sat in the window, watching the battle unfold. An amused smile crept upon her lips. Oh, Cassandra had planned so many clever little strategies, and none of them were really working out for her. The Princess was clever, but after all, Castle Araluen's walls were impenetrable and they outnumbered Cassandra's army three to one. A larger force might have been able to do it, but honestly, it was impossible with their small numbers.<p>

She spun round, as she heard Jerome enter the room. "Jerome!" she smiled, hurrying over to him, wrapping her arms around him. "Will you take me as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Jerome's mouth widened into a smile, but there was a cold, clipped edge to his voice. "I do. Will you take me as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," replied Merkhliné, burying her head into Jerome's shoulder. "Cassandra's army isn't faring too well, is it?"

Jerome glanced outside. "It doesn't appear to be," he frowned.

Merkhliné looked at him uncertainly. "Oh, come on, Jerome. You don't think Cassandra could possibly win, do you?

"I've seen far more dramatic turnarounds in battles," replied Jerome. "They seem to be… conserving energy. Compare our losses to theirs. They're not getting anywhere, but… they've had barely any casualties. We, on the other hand…" he turned back to Merkhliné. "Don't count your prizes before they're won, my dear." His features turned cold. "Although, you may not have another chance to count them…"

Merkhliné frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jerome turned to her. "I mean, you are no longer of any use to me."

"What – J-Jerome?" Merkhliné exclaimed, as Jerome pulled her into a rough embrace. She froze, feeling cold, sharp, deadly steel against her back.

"Goodbye, Merkhliné," hissed Jerome. "Till death do us part." For a second, Merkhliné's world plunged into red-hot pain, then it finished forever.

* * *

><p>"Withdraw!" Gilan commanded, knocking yet another arrow, which fell with a satisfying thud. It would be useless to attack at this point. Merkhliné's army had formed a solid, defensive ring around the castle, a ring that was pretty much impenetrable.<p>

The battle was going… not too badly, as far as Gilan could tell, and Gilan's assessments were usually pretty accurate. But it was going… slowly. While Merkhliné's losses compounded their own, taking back the castle would be an impossible feat. If they continued as they did, they could keep attacking Merkhliné's forces until they were weak enough for them to break through, but that would take a long time, and their resources were limited. Perhaps, if they concentrated their forces, they could break though the castle walls, capture Merkhliné and crown Evanlyn – Gilan suspected that, without their leader, Merkhliné's army would quickly disperse. They were common criminals after all – once it became clear there was no longer anything in it for them, they'd make themselves scarce. Any who didn't could be easily dealt with. But that would result in too many losses to their own side for them even to consider it.

"Gilan!" He turned to see Bryn, jogging up to him.

Gilan grunted, raising his hand in greeting. The man was a good soldier, and it was a shame he got mixed up in the wrong crowd during Battleschool – he would have made a good knight. He let out a despairing sigh. "It's useless," he muttered. "Bryn, can you send a message to Halt, and say…"

Bryn shook his head. "Will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

Gilan blinked. "Of course. Sorry."

"Well, I don't think it's as hopeless as you seem to think," Bryn grinned. "A large force has arrived from Redmont."

Gilan closed his eyes in relief. "Rodney?"

Bryn nodded. "That's right. Also, it seems like Lady Pauline and Lady Alyss have been busy, because they seem to have arrived with a combined force from all the fiefs in Araluen."

"That's – wonderful!" Gilan grinned. "Who's outnumbered now?" He turned to Bryn. "What are my orders? Retreat and regroup?"

"That's it," Bryn nodded. "Although – Halt also mentioned something about, for the love of Gorlog, don't do anything stupid."

"If we weren't in the middle of a war," Gilan chuckled, "I'd take that as a challenge."

* * *

><p>"Alyss!" Will cried, as he swung down from Tug and ran to his old friend.<p>

Alyss grinned. The entire army had been withdrawn, and a small group were assembled inside Cassandra's tent, to review strategy. Which was where Alyss and Will were currently meant to be. However, Alyss, desperate to see her old friend, had managed to procrastinate entering the conference until he arrived.

"You. Are. Brilliant," Will grinned. "How did you know…"

"Word got out," Alyss replied. "We weren't sure how accurate it was at first, but… well, _you_ sent a messenger, if you care to remember."

Will smiled. He had, indeed, sent a message the first chance he got, but that was before they knew the battle was going to occur. It had only detailed Merkhliné's treason, and the involvement of Alda and Jerome. "You're still brilliant," he told her. "Come on, we'd better go talk to Evanlyn."

They entered the tent, to find Cassandra, Halt, Crowley, Sir David, Horace, Lady Pauline, Sir Rodney and Gilan standing around the table. "Alyss!" Horace exclaimed, moving to hug the tall, blonde girl.

"Hello, Horace," Alyss smiled, returning the embrace. She looked over her shoulder, at Gilan. "Hi, Gilan. Jenny sends her love."

Everyone laughed as Gilan went beetroot red. Rodney nudged him, teasingly, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs.

Halt cleared his throat. "Yes. Alyss has arrived, everyone. So has Will, have you noticed? Let's get back to the matter in hand. Gilan, you were saying…"

"Yes!" Gilan exclaimed, relieved at the change of subject. "It occurred to me before, on the battlefield." He pointed to a few places on the map. "From what I can observe, the weakest places are here, and here. If we concentrate our forces in those places, we can probably break through fairly easily. We can get into the castle, and take it back. Once we've captured the leaders – Merkhliné and Jerome are the main ones, I think, Merkhliné's army will probably disperse fairly quickly. It occurred to me before, but it would probably have resulted in far too many losses. With this bigger force, though… I think it would work."

Crowley smiled. "Sounds good to me." Halt, David and Pauline also expressed their consent.

"What do you think?" Pauline asked Cassandra. "It's your decision."

Cassandra stared at the map on the table, and nodded. "It's a good plan. Let's do it."

* * *

><p>The clanging of metal rang out from all around him, as Gilan forced his way through the wall of enemy soldiers. The plan was for him, Horace, Rodney and a few others to get inside the castle, and hopefully infiltrate it so that, once the army was inside the castle, seeing Cassandra onto the throne should be a relatively easy task. Of course, there was a second objective, and that was to check on Duncan.<p>

After what seemed like hours, Gilan broke free of the enemy ranks and ran into the castle. He found Horace at the foot of the stairs, looking around wildly.

"Gilan!" Horace greeted, grinning in relief. "We were worried you hadn't waited."

Gilan raised his hand. "Is Rodney here?"

Horace nodded. "He just went to the throne room. He said that when you arrived…" He was interrupted by the clanging of army coming down the stairwell. They turned to see Rodney, running towards them.

"Gilan," Rodney gasped, clasping the young Ranger on the shoulder. "Glad to see you." His eyes turned grave. "Merkhliné's dead."

Horace's jaw dropped. "You're kidding," he whispered. "How?"

"Stabbed in the back, quite literally, it would seem," Rodney replied. "Not surprising, considering the company she was keeping." His brow creased in thought. "Who do you think…"

"Jerome," Gilan and Horace replied in unison. "Will said he was the only one she fully trusted," Gilan continued. "It also seemed like Jerome was using her as a front to rule, and now that she's lost the throne…"

Horace nodded in agreement. "Besides, he's just the type. Treacherous."

Rodney nodded. "Fine. We've got more allies then enemies within the castle – the kitchen staff are particularly vehement, for some reason. Most of the guards are out there, so crowning Cassandra should be relatively easy. Let's go find Jerome." He and Horace started up the stairway.

"Wait!" called Gilan. "Shouldn't we check on the king?"

Rodney paused. "Fine, you go and do that. Then come and find us."

The three parted ways, and Gilan raced toward the murky dungeons, knocking out the guards as soon as he saw them. He swung open the door to Duncan's cell, to find the King, lying on the floor, bleeding out of his ears.

That was when it happened. Gilan's vision swum and his senses dulled. Darkness overcame him, and all went black.

* * *

><p>Sighing heavily, Bryn lay down his sword, relieved that the battle was over. Cassandra had taken back the throne, and, as Gilan had predicted, what was left of Merkhliné's army had quickly made themselves scarce. On that note, where was Gilan? Perhaps he was with the King… he resolved to find his friend.<p>

He was also fairly sure Gilan hadn't taken his medicine that morning. This was why he had taken the initiative to put a bottle in his pocket, because really, somebody had to take responsibility for the newly-reinstated Ranger's health. He headed to the dungeons, not that he thought that was where Gilan was, but he didn't know where else to start.

As he entered the corridor leading to the dungeons, a large pair of hands grabbed him. Bryn found himself pressed against the wall, Alda's ugly face leering over him. "Hello, Bryn. What a nice surprise," Alda jeered, before calling down the corridor. "Jerome! You'll never guess who decided to poke his nose where it doesn't belong!"

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and Bryn turned his head to see Jerome walking towards them. Bryn's eyes widened in alarm – he was wearing Gilan's Ranger cloak. "Hello, old friend," Jerome drawled. He spun around, experimentally. "Do you like my new cloak? It fits me nicely. I'm about the same height as your sneaky Ranger friend, have you noticed? Pull the hood up, and from a distance, I'm him." He turned to Alda. "I think you're going to have to carry him. He's sleeping like a baby."

Bryn cringed, as Alda began to rummage through his pockets. "What's this?" jeered Alda, pulling out the bottle of medicine.

"Please," Bryn croaked, "If you're going to be taking me and Gilan with you, at least let me keep that. He needs it."

"He needs it," Jerome mimicked, pouring the contents of the bottle on the ground. He grinned at Bryn. "Best get yourself ready. We'll be leaving for Gallica in an hour."

* * *

><p>The battle lasted two hours. Finally, Cassandra was able to enter the castle, Will and Halt at her heels. They were met by Horace and Rodney in the throne room.<p>

"We weren't able to find Jerome or Alda," Horace told them. "We've been looking for hours, but they've just disappeared. Also…"

Halt groaned in annoyance. "Finish your sentences! Also?"

Rodney drew in a deep breathe. "Gilan went to check on the king. He hasn't come back."

Halt's eyes widened, and he raced down to the dungeons. He found no sign of Gilan, only an unconscious King Duncan and an empty bottle of Gilan's medicine lying on the floor.

**Oooh, Cliffy! You must hate me for these by now… Thanks for reading! Here are the review replies mentioned in the last chapter:**

**no-oneimportant: "You know, I've never met anyone who wasn't important before" - The Doctor. Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

**With-the-Wolves: yeah, it is getting a bit chaotic, isn't it? And yeah, I feel sorry for poor Gil too... whilst taking sadistic pleasure in his predicament! Glad you're enjoying it!**

**Something Spiffy: Yeah, we PM'd... thank you for taking the time to write such a detailed review, and I hope you like these chapters!**

**Guest: Really? Thanks!**

**Chopstick Legend: Thank you for ALL your reviews, because there has been a lot of them! Glad you're enjoying this story!**

**FishInAFadora: Thanks! Glad you like it!**


	13. Political Turmoil

**Disclaimer: Knock Knock. Who's there? John Flanagan. John Flanagan who? Not me, I'm afraid.**

**On with the fic!**

Tears pricked behind Evanlyn's eyes, as she held her dying father's hand. Upon finding Duncan looking much worse for wear in the dungeons, they had immediately taken him up to his chambers, and sought medical assistance. A physician sat at the opposite side of the room, speaking to Halt in a low undertone.

"I don't know if there's anything I can do for him," the doctor said. "He has a haemorrhage in his head, and it's bleeding out very quickly. I will do what I can, but… I can't guarantee anything, I'm afraid."

Halt nodded, his brow creased in thought. "A haemorrhage? What do you think must have caused it?"

"I took a blood sample," the doctor replied. "I think… he must have consumed some kind of blood stimulus, which caused an eruption in his veins."

Halt's face fell. "Like the medicine you gave Gilan?"

The doctor nodded. "An overdose of that would have done it. Although, he would need to have consumed nearly a whole bottle to reach this point. How is Ranger Gilan faring, may I ask?"

"I – don't know," replied Halt, his blood running cold. "He disappeared after the battle." He reached into his pocket, drawing out the empty bottle he'd found on the dungeon floor. "Is this the medicine you gave him?"

Comprehension dawned on the doctor's face. "Well… yes. The tasteless variety." He glanced up at Halt. "It would have tasted like – water. Didn't Gilan start with this bottle?"

"No," Halt replied gravely. "He began with the other bottle. Said he wanted to – save – the tasteless medicine."

The doctor blinked. "But… from the look of Duncan… he must have taken the medicine at least two hours before you found him."

"The plan involved Gilan and two others getting to the castle first," Halt said. "As soon as he arrived, Gilan… went to check on the King. Nobody's seen him since."

"Oh." The doctor looked up in disbelief. "And there was – no sign of a struggle?" Halt shook his head. "Is anyone else missing?"

"Three men," replied Halt. "There was Bryn, a friend of Gilan's. Alda and Jerome are also missing, and I don't have to tell you who they are. Bryn has very strong connections with those two men."

"I can't believe it," the doctor whispered. "I really, truly, cannot."

Across the room, the King's daughter stared at them in shock.

* * *

><p>Bryn stared fearfully at Gilan's limb form, as it swayed unceremoniously on Alda's shoulder. Several times, he was afraid his friend was going to fall and be further injured, but each time Gilan slipped, Alda pulled him back up, complaining about the weight.<p>

Jerome was wearing Gilan's cloak, and they had forced Gilan into his signature armour, creating the impression that Jerome was injured and being carried out, and that Gilan was also willingly accompanying them. To an onlooker, it looked as though Bryn was willingly walking out of the country, in the company of the most wanted men in Araluen. He was not bound, nor injured, nor being held at knifepoint. But he wasn't going to leave Gilan, especially in the state he was in, with Jerome and Alda, and the men knew it. Just to be sure, they had made it quite clear that should Bryn try to run, they would kill Gilan immediately.

Fervently, Bryn hoped his wife, Elaine, and his adoptive daughter, Rivva, were okay, and that Elaine would forgive him for all the stress this was no doubt causing her. After all, she had no idea where he was, or even if he was alive.

They walked through the night. Bryn struggled to keep up with Alda's gruelling pace, although he didn't seem to be having as much trouble as Jerome. Bryn continued to follow Alda and Jerome, determined to keep Gilan safe. He owed that much to the young Ranger.

At about dawn, Bryn began licking his lips. It had been a long time since they had stopped for a drink and – Oh! He cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid? "Stop!" he called after Alda and Jerome. "I'm serious! Stop! Right now!"

Jerome sighed dramatically, swinging round to face Jerome. "What is it?" He asked in a bored tone.

"Gilan needs water," Bryn insisted. "He hasn't had a drink since yesterday."

"So?" drawled Jerome.

Bryn glared, anger rising within him. For a moment, he forgot the events of the last few months, and Jerome became nothing more than the cruel Battleschool bully Bryn had somehow befriended. "You can see him! It could mean the difference between life and death."

Jerome studied Bryn, considering his words. Eventually, he called out to Alda "Set him down, we'll let Bryn play nursemaid." He handed Bryn the smallest of the water flasks. "Feel free to do what you can."

Alda heaved Gilan unceremoniously to the ground at Bryn's feet. "We're only an hour's walk from where we need to get to," he grumbled.

Bryn glared back up at him. "Gilan might not have an hour. He needs water." Gently, he poured the cool liquid into Gilan's lips. That was all it took. Gilan's eyes began to flicker open.

Immediately, the young Ranger surged upwards into a sitting position. "Bryn," he slurred, "what's happening?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid," Bryn replied grimly. "But we'll get out of this somehow. I promise."

Alda kicked Gilan's foot. "Now you're awake, you can walk."

Bryn glared up at him. "He's hardly strong enough to walk."

Alda shrugged. "You can carry him if you want, but you'll be expected to keep up the pace, which is only going to get faster."

"I can walk," Gilan croaked. "At least, partially."

Sighing, Bryn pulled Gilan's arm over his shoulders, and they continued on their way.

The 'place they had to stop' turned out to be a small, poor inn that would be devastated by Alda's stealing four horses from the stables. Jerome intended to be in Gallica the next day, and to do that, they needed horses.

* * *

><p>Halt blinked back the tears that threatened to ruin his icy composure. If the evidence wasn't there to incriminate his former apprentice before, it certainly was now. Not an hour ago, Alda and Bryn had been sighted leaving the town together, a young man, presumed to be Jerome judging from his clothing, slung over Alda's shoulder. They were also in the company of a tall Ranger, who seemed to match Gilan's description. And it wasn't as if Gilan's recent record looked favourably upon him, either. For all intents and purposes, he was a Ranger suspended for ill-conduct who may easily be desperate enough to perform the deed.<p>

Halt couldn't believe Gilan would do this. But nor could he ignore the evidence.

There was a faint knock on the door. "Come in," Halt called gruffly. After a second, Cassandra entered, her eyes red-rimmed with tears and exhaustion. As soon as it became clear that Duncan may never again be fit to rule, she'd been crowned acting Queen. The responsibility weighed upon her heavily, and she'd had little time to grieve. "Your Highness," Halt grunted.

"Halt," she spoke, her voice faltering. "About Gilan… do you believe it?"

Halt studied her. "Do you?"

The acting Queen laughed shakily. "Will certainly doesn't. Horace and Rodney are also pretty adamant Gilan's innocent."

Halt's brow narrowed. "That's not what I asked."

Cassandra frowned. "I – don't know," she replied. "I don't want to believe it, but… well, I can hardly ignore the evidence, can I?"

Halt nodded. "Okay."

Cassandra glared at him. "Well?"

"Well, what?" asked Halt. "How is Battlemaster David faring?"

Cassandra blinked. "David? He says the only thing that'll convince him is a confession from Gilan himself. But, Halt, can you please just help me? What should I do?"

"You're the Queen," Halt replied. "You tell me."

* * *

><p>Clearly, Gilan was not in a good enough condition to ride a horse. This was why Bryn had secured him into the saddle using straps and taken control of his reins. They arrived in Gallica early the next morning. Jerome and Alda found lodging in a small inn, leaving Bryn and Gilan to fend for themselves. Jerome had also taken back his armour, flinging Gilan's Ranger cloak back at him. "You can have your filthy cloak back, Ranger," he'd said.<p>

Although desperate to stop and tend to Gilan, Bryn prevailed to his better judgement and took the opportunity to escape. He left two of the horses, and brought Gilan to a physician… on the other side of Gallica. The doctor had jumped in alarm at the sight of the young Ranger, and had instantly set to work, administering medicines and examining his head. Bryn stayed at his side, and they worked tirelessly throughout the day. By evening, Gilan was fully conscious, able to sit up for an extended period of time and even able to read. When a group of Gallican officials came to arrest Gilan and Bryn late that night, the doctor's protests were the loudest.

They were flung into the same cell, much to Bryn's relief, but his relief died at the sight of Alda and Jerome looming over them. Somehow, however, Bryn wasn't surprised.

* * *

><p>The news of the newly reinstated Ranger Gilan being under suspicion for the murder of King Duncan spread like wildfire. Many people, such as Will, Horace and Rodney, refused to believe it. More people, such as Crowley and Queen Cassandra, were undecided – they didn't want to believe it, but they couldn't ignore the evidence. Others, such as Halt and Gilan's father, David, simply refused to comment, or draw any conclusions.<p>

Lady Alyss of Redmont chose a more practical approach. She and her mentor, Lady Pauline, used their various connections to keep tabs on the group. Finding that Gilan, Alda, Bryn and Jerome were bound for Gallica, she immediately contacted a friend in the Gallican Diplomatic Service.

The reply she received two days later shook her to the core. She immediately requested council with Queen Cassandra. An hour later, Alyss, Cassandra, Lady Pauline, Sir David, Sir Horace, Sir Rodney, Crowley, Halt and Will were gathered in the Royal adviser's room.

Alyss blinked in concern at Cassandra's state. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her features were contorted with stress and grief. It was clear she had not slept. "Your Highness," she found herself saying, "You need to rest!"

Cassandra gave her a weak smile, before going to sit down beside her. "Yes, well, maybe sometime I'll get some time." She took the message from Alyss and skimmed over it, before hurling it to the ground in a very unladylike manner. "Of all the times for this to happen," she cursed. "Damn it, we CAN'T go to war with Gallica!"

Horace studied the acting Queen. "You have a very large and effective army gathered in Araluen at the moment," he interjected. "Our losses in the last battle were minimal, and…"

"And they need to rest, and recover their strength," replied Cassandra, distressed. "And anyway, it's not the army I'm worried about." She picked up the message from the floor, then handed it to Alyss. "Read that out, will you, Lady Alyss?"

Alyss nodded, unfolding the parchment. "Dear Lady Alyss," she began. "I was surprised to hear from you due to the current state of political turmoil between our two countries. I will answer your questions as best as I can, but I have my loyalties, as I'm sure you have yours.

"I will tell you no more than you surely must already know. No doubt your country has begun preparing for the impending war, in which our two nations will battle. Our forces are marching to Araluen as I write this.

"We are familiar with the Araluens Jerome and Alda. The other two men, Bryn and Ranger Gilan, are strangers to us. Alda and Jerome, however, have committed great crimes against our people, and I must tell you that they and any companions will be arrested on sight, should we find them. You must understand that they are guilty of kidnapping a Gallican noblewoman, Lady Merkhliné.

"Perhaps it is possible that Jerome has deceived you as he had deceived us. Nonetheless, Lady Merkhliné was executed by Jerome in your country, and this is an act of war. If some error has been made, I urge you to send diplomats to negotiate with our leaders. However, I fear it is already too late. Our generals are under orders to lay siege to your kingdom.

"Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I must insist this letter marks the end of my correspondence with you, good Lady Alyss. Sincerely, Jean Depardieu." She broke off. "Why didn't we hear that Gallica has declared war on us?"

"Same reason we thought Merkhliné was the new Gallican Ambassador," Halt replied gravely. "Somebody has been intercepting our messages."

Horace frowned. "That sound likely, but… why did Alyss's message get through?"

Alyss gave a wry smile. "I don't use the standard delivery service."

Cassandra chewed her lip. "There's nothing for it, really," she said. "David, Rodney, please prepare the army for battle. We'll go to meet the Gallican forces – the further we keep this from the civilians, the better. Adopt a strictly defensive formation – you just need to hold out against Gallica for the time being, while we sort this out." She turned to Halt. "Could you go with the army, and request a ceasefire? There will probably be someone on the battlefield authorized to negotiate. I'll go and meet them in person." She turned to Pauline. "Please, will you… stay here, and help me keep everything under control? Also when I am able to negotiate… I'd appreciate your guidance."

Pauline nodded. "Of course. Halt and I will be glad to help any way we can." She shot a glare at Halt, who immediately mumbled his own consent.

Cassandra smiled. "Thanks. I'm also going to need a group to go to Gallica, and negotiate – see if we can get the King to withdraw his army. I'd go myself, but I don't want to leave Araluen in a time like this." She turned to Alyss. "Lady Alyss, the only reason we know about this is because of you. I'd be most gratified if you were to go."

Alyss nodded. "Of course," she replied. "Who will you send with me?"

"Crowley," Cassandra replied after a moment. "The two of you can carry out the negotiations. Also, I'll send Horace. And… Will, if Halt will allow it."

Halt glanced at his apprentice. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened last time Will had been on a special mission without him. Nonetheless, it was a good idea for Will to go, as he worked well with both Horace and Alyss. He also knew he'd be far more useful on a special mission than in a war.

"If he's happy to go, he can go," Halt consented gruffly.

The preparations were hastily made, and Will, Crowley, Alyss and Horace rode for Gallica the next morning.

* * *

><p>If looks could kill, Alda and Jerome would be dead at least five hundred times in the cell that night from the glares Bryn was shooting them. Thanks to the doctor, Gilan was able to stay conscious, and was now talking incessantly, purely to annoy Jerome. Dimly, he remembered Halt telling him time and time again that, in case of capture, do not, for the love of Gorlog, annoy your captors. However, Gilan never could resist – it was a way to get back at them, after all.<p>

"So, I'm told we're to be executed. Why would that be I wonder, Jerome?" Gilan prattled.

Jerome rolled his eyes. "Why do you think?" he muttered. "Apparently, they're under the impression that I kidnapped Merkhliné. The girl's been more trouble than she was worth."

Gilan feigned sympathy. "Oh, what an inconvenience she was for you!" he replied sarcastically, earning himself another kick in the stomach from Alda. Anger flashed in Bryn's eyes as he stood up to retaliate, but Gilan pulled him down. The last thing they needed was to get into a fight. "Why don't we get a trial?"

"Because," Jerome drawled, "we've already been tried."

Gilan shook his head. "You have." He indicated himself and Bryn. "We haven't."

"Actually, we have," Bryn muttered darkly, glaring at Jerome. "We just weren't present for the trial. These two were, and they've paid some people to give evidence against us."

"Great," Gilan huffed. "When's the execution? We've got to work out a way out." Everyone stared at him. "I'm not anxious to be hanged, are you?"

Jerome laughed. "Of course not. But would you be willing to let Alda and I escape?"

"Yes," Gilan replied shrewdly. "And then you will come back to Araluen, to be tried. I have contacts too, you know, and I can bring you back."

"I don't believe this!" Jerome grinned. "Don't you know? Oh, of course you don't. If you go to Araluen, you too will be arrested on sight, and tried for the murder of King Duncan."

Gilan's blood ran cold, his eyes widening in shock. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "What? They can't possibly think…"

"Oh, they do," Jerome drawled. "Well, it's been nice catching up with you both, but Alda and I best be on our way. Now I know of your plans to attempt to escape, I'll ask my contact to concentrate the guards on your cell. I'll even request twenty-four hour supervision for you. Oh, and in answer to your earlier question, your execution is at dawn, the day after tomorrow."

The cell door clicked open, and Jerome and Alda walked out.

**Thank you, lovely reviewers!**

**MoniqueBowman: Yeah, I know the feeling! It takes so much effort to log in, and it's so easy just to post a guest review :D That line wasn't supposed to be exactly funny, but it wasn't supposed to be serious either. Glad you had a good laugh! Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic!**


	14. Wartime

**… Sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice, do you?**

The clock chimed midnight. A young girl tensely slid out of bed and gingerly pulled her cloak and boots on. Very quickly, she scrawled a note to her mother, although she doubted its contents would in any way ease her worrying. Never mind. She had to do what she had to do.

She paused outside her mother's room. There were things inside that could be of great use to her. But no – her mother slept lightly. It was difficult enough trying to leave without attempting to pillage the draws.

Before leaving the cottage, she gently edged open the chest that lay in the corner of the living space. She took out a Saxe knife – an old relic her father had kept from his days as a Battleschool student. It was a beautiful weapen, weighted perfectly. Her parents had others – swords, sabres, crossbows – but this was by far the best in quality. To boot, it was a weapon she could carry, and had no trouble using, even if only to scare off thugs.

She felt a stab of guilt at stealing one of her parents' most precious possessions. But she was sure that her mother would rather have her father then his knife.

Unless she lost her husband, her daughter, and the knife. Either way, she wouldn't be too concerned about the knife.

Rivva shivered. Stop, she told herself. There was no use in thinking like that.

A harsh, dusty gust plagued Rivva's eyes as she jogged the five-hundred meters towards her friend's house. Taking out her notepad, she scrawled another note, explaining that she needed to borrow their pony.

She really hoped she came out of this alive. She didn't want to die a horse theif.

The Meric fief was not normally so sombre at night. Normally there'd be at least five parties in this part of town, and the streets would be populated by sellers and buyers. But now, the air was cruel and oppressive, and Rivva had only the light of the full moon to guide her.

News spread quickly in Araluen. Most had rejoiced upon hearing that Cassandra had returned and overthrown Merkhliné in time to prevent a mass execution. The news of an impending war with Gallica had not been so welcome, and many of Meric's young men had left to join the Araluen army. The news that Jerome, Alda, Bryn and Ranger Gilan had been seen leaving the country together, supposedly having killed the king, had been met with a great deal of shock, and the locals keenly avoided discussing it.

Rivva was certain of her father's innocence, and of that of the Ranger who had caught the men who had attacked her, so many weeks ago. And although she might not be able to prove it, she could still warn them.

Rivva let out a sigh of relief as she left the last of the townhouses behind her. Minutes later, she found herself completely alone, enveloped by darkness. A cold hand gripped her heart.

Suddenly, a black horse emerged from the bushes behind her. Immediatley, she kicked the pony into a gallop, but the other mount was bigger, stronger, faster. Desperately, she fumbled with her Saxe knife, although not nearly quickly enough.

"So that's where that got to," a familiar voice rang out. As the other rider lit a torch, Rivva breathed a sigh of relief.

Which very quickly turned to dread.

"Where do you think you're going at this time of night?" Her mother asked sternly.

Rivva shrugged. She may as well tell the truth. "To find Dad."

"What a coincidence." Elaine cracked a smile. "That's where I'm going, too."

The following morning, a small but efficient task force appointed by the acting Queen Cassandra set out to carry urgent negotiations in Gallica. They rode fast and travelled lightly, arriving in Gallica late that night. It was too late to request audience with the Gallican officials, so they gratefully accepted lodgings at an inn near the palace. The innkeeper was so intrigued by the arrival of four Araluens in a time when their countries were at war that he made a point of going out and inviting them to his inn.

"Of all the times for Araluens to be here!" he exclaimed. "What, with a war on the way… you'd better be careful tomorrow – Araluen isn't too popular in Gallica at the moment. May I ask why on Earth you're here?"

Alyss glanced at Crowley, unsure how much to tell him. At his affirmative gesture, she replied "Well, actually, we're here to try and stop the war."

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows. "Setting your sights a bit high there, aren't you?"

"I hope not," replied Alyss. "We were sent by the Queen. There's… been a mistake. Our government was… infiltrated, but that's all sorted out now."

"Blimey," muttered the Innkeeper. "I suppose you'll be wanting an audience with the King, then?"

Crowley nodded. "We'll announce ourselves at the palace first thing tomorrow."

"You might have some trouble getting an audience tomorrow," the innkeeper told them darkly. "There's to be an execution. Two Araluens. Used to be four, but two of them escaped. Wonder why they didn't bring the others with them…" He glanced up the small group in front of him, noticing their shocked faces. "Do you think… you know them?"

"Maybe," replied Alyss, her brow creasing with worry.

"Describe them," added Will.

The innkeeper thought for a moment. "One of them was wearing a cloak like you two've got," he replied, indicating Will and Crowley. "He… didn't seem well. Was barely conscious, actually, and the other fellow seemed pretty concerned about him. Probably why Jerome left him actually, too much of an inconvenience. That's Jerome for you," he shuddered.

The Araluens glanced at each other in alarm. "What do you know about Jerome?" asked Crowley.

The innkeeper blinked in surprise. "I know he's a dirty swine," he replied darkly. "Do you know him?"

Crowley nodded. "Oh, yes. He was… somewhat responsible for the infiltration of our government."

"Stayed at my inn once," the innkeeper grunted. "Rudest customers I ever had, he and his lackey, Alda… he's the other person who was going to be executed, but escaped."

"Meaning the two people being hanged tomorrow are Gilan and Bryn," Horace breathed.

The innkeeper perked up in interest. "You know them?"

Crowley nodded. "Yes, we know them very well. There's a chance… they may be innocent, and were kidnapped by Jerome and Alda, especially if Gilan's head injury is causing him problems." His breath hitched. "But… I don't know. There was once a time where I would have trusted Gilan until the end of the earth, but we've found some pretty incriminating evidence against him."

Horace gasped. "You don't honestly believe it was Gilan who…" but Will cut him off.

"Alyss," he interjected, "didn't the reports say that the Ranger was walking, and that… Jerome was being carried?" he turned to the innkeeper. "How was Jerome? Was he in full health?"

"He was in full health enough to break into the bar across the road," the innkeeper replied. "Poor bartender was scared out of his wits. Saw him myself, as he was being taken in by the guards. Definitely hasn't been unconscious lately. The other man, though… could tell he's had it rough."

"Gilan's about the same height as Jerome," Alyss said slowly. "If Jerome wore Gilan's cloak, and Gilan wore Jerome's armour…"

"He also has enough intelligence to not leave incriminating evidence like a bottle, and to move in a way so that he won't be seen," Crowley added. Although his voice was grave, it sounded a little lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from his mind. "I think we can safely say that Gilan did not kill King Duncan."

"Well, of course he didn't," Horace huffed, "and I'm not going to let him or Bryn get executed. So, what are we going to do?"

It was mid-afternoon when Elaine and Rivva arrived outside the Chateau du Gallica.

Rivva glanced around. "How are we going to find him?" She wondered.

"Excusez-moi!" Elaine hailed a nearby merchant, flawlessly imitating a Gallican accent. She was half Gallican, after all. "We have been out of town for the last few weeks. Could you tell me what all this fuss is about?"

"Well, you're in for a surprise," the merchant grimaced. "We're at war with Araluen."

"War!" Elaine exclaimed.

"Aha," the merchant replied. "And there's an execution on tomorrow morning. Four Araluens. Except two of them have escaped, so it might not go ahead. Usually wouldn't. But right now, it's wartime, so…" he shrugged.

A cold hand gripped Elaine's heart. Her brow hardened. "Who are the Araluens?"

The merchant chuckled darkly. "The ones possibly being executed tomorrow? No idea," he replied. "The ones who escaped, however… I would like to see them dead. Their names are Alda and Jerome, and they're the dirtiest swine ever to disgrace the Earth." He shuddered. "I hate executions. They're gruesome. And bad for business."

Desperately trying to control her breathing, Elaine thanked him and left, keeping a tight grip on Rivva's hand.

Prince Philippe, younger brother to King Marius of Gallica, was sitting in his tent preparing for the battle when a young messenger entered. "Monsieur," the young boy said, "Il y a un homme qui veut parler avec vous. Il est un député de la Reine d'Araluen." _(Sir, there is a man who wishes to speak with you. He is a representative of the Queen of Araluen)_

Philippe perked up in surprise. "Show him in," he commanded. The boy left, and a few minutes later, a small, grizzled man entered the tent. Philippe recognized him as one of Araluen's Rangers – a dark, mysterious group of people with whom the protection of Araluen was trusted, whose ability to move unseen and unheard were uncanny. Some even said they had supernatural abilities, but Philippe didn't believe such tales. Even so, the appearance of a Ranger was definitely something of note. "Who are you, and why have you come here?" he asked icily. Normally, he would have been more hospitable, but this was wartime, after all.

"My name is Halt," the grizzled Ranger replied. "I bring you a message from Queen Cassandra."

Philippe raised an eyebrow. "I thought Araluen was ruled by King Duncan."

"It was," Halt replied gruffly, "but a recent haemorrhage as a result of poisoning has rendered him unfit to rule for the foreseeable future. His daughter has been crowned acting Queen."

Philippe looked up in surprise. "Do you know who poisoned the King?"

"Not for sure," Halt replied. "Would you like to hear Cassandra's message or not?"

Philippe chucked lightly at the Ranger's impatience. "So be it, Ranger. What do you have to tell me?"

"The Queen believes that the situation is not what you think it is," the Ranger replied . "She wishes to meet with you and to find a peaceful means of overcoming this conflict."

"Will she surrender?" Philippe asked impatiently.

Halt eyed him shrewdly. "No," he replied. "She will withdraw her troops, but will surrender neither herself nor her country."

Philippe shortly dismissed the Ranger. He was not prepared to negotiate with any country that plundered their own villages, nor with any ruler who had Jerome on her high council.

An hour later, the battle began.

The danger with stopping an execution of countrymen convicted of serious crimes internationally was that it endangered all possibilities of being able to negotiate with the monarch. Leaving Gilan and Bryn to die, however, was not an option. Alyss and Crowley had wasted no time in going to beg audience with the king, desperately hoping that, despite the late hour, the Gallican ruler would agree to meet with them. So far, they hadn't returned.

Will and Horace, whose presence had been deemed unneccesary, had long since given up any attempt to sleep. They sat in the corner, absent-mindedly drinking coffee an playing a card game

If the innkeeper, whose name was George, hadn't quite grasped the severity of the situation, the arrival of the local doctor towards midnight made it dreadfully apparent.

George was half asleep when his old friend, Adrien, came crashing in.

" Adrien! Vachement!" George exclaimed. "What's going on!"

Adrien dumped his belongings onto the ground and began pacing around the kitchen. "I've got to stop tommorrow's execution."

George nodded, indicating the two young men in the corner. "I think they'd be inclined to agree with you. Araluens, friends of the executionees." After a few seconds of George wildly attempting to get their attention, they looked up in suprise and came over.

"Adrien," George said gruffly, "this is Will and Horace. Will, Horace, this is Adrien the Doctor. He says he needs to stop the execution."

"And I'm within my rights to," Adrien added. "I was treating one of the men before they were arrested. If I deem him medically unfit, neither of them can be executed. That's the law. It's just asserting my right that's the thing. I need to tell someone"

"Especially now that two of them have escaped," George added. "Protocol is to call off the entire execution."

"Yes," the doctor added, "but this is wartime. Different rules."

"Our friends went to seek audience with the king a few hours ago," Will told him. "They haven't returned."

"If two Araluen ambassadors can't get audience, you won't be able to," George added. "Let me saddle you up a horse. You can probably speak to the prison warden."

Adrien nodded vividly. "Thank you. I need to administer the Ranger's medication."

Will and Horace also clampered to their feet.

"It's probably best if you two stay behind," George told them. They relented. The last thing that was needed was an Araluen knight and Ranger's apprentice barging in to see the Araluen war criminals. Still, they were hesitant.

"Adrien shouldn't go by himself," Horace objected.

Will nodded. "I'll come with you," he said. "I'm quite small. I can dress as a stablehand."

Horace cracked a smile. "Quite?"

As small as Will was, he caused quite some discomfort as his elbow made contact with Horace's ribs.

"What do you mean, he won't negotiate?" Cassandra's voice was shrill.

Halt shook his head. "I don't know."

Cassandra glared at him. "What do you mean, you don't know? You went to see him. You're not in the habit of leaving without the information you want. Why, exactly, did you think that, with THE FATE OF THE COUNTRY IN THE BALANCE, now was a good time to start?"

Pauline placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, desperately trying to calm the acting Queen. "The last thing we want to do is aggravate the Prince further," the older woman explained. "Phillipe is a reasonable person, but very volatile. It is best not to anger him."

Halt nodded. "It's always best to be respectful and unassuming on your first visit, even if it's totally unproductive. That way…"

"Shut it!" Cassandra interrupted coldly. "You can give me a lesson in diplomacy later."

"Cassandra…" Pauline admonished.

Immediately, the Princess's features softened. "Sorry, Halt," she apologised. "Thank you for all your help. But right now, there are people fighting. People fighting means people dying. I understand your trying to gain the Prince's favour, but right now, we don't have time for that luxury."

Halt nodded. "That's reasonable."

"And we understand your frustration," Pauline added soothingly, gently rubbing the young woman's back. "We all share it"

Cassandra nodded. "I know." She drew in a shaky breath, her voice trembling with nervousness. "Prepare me a horse. I'll go myself."

Pauline stared incredulously. "Now?" Cassandra nodded. "No," the older woman continued. "You need to rest. When did you last sleep?"

"Irrelevant," Cassandra replied.

"Not since she was in Alda's custody," Halt corrected.

Cassandra glared at him. "Make me some coffee. I'll be fine."

Pauline shook her head. "No."

"Think about it," Cassandra began. "We don't have time for normal negotiating procedures. If I turn up half an hour into the battle, totally dishevelled like I am, and beg audience with the Prince… well, I'll be a spectacle, but he's sure to hear me out. We have sufficient evidence to prove we're not responsible for Jerome and Merkline."

Halt nodded. "Makes sense."

"Yes, it does," Pauline agreed reluctantly.

"Except," Halt added, "you may never reach the Gallican camp. You could be killed first."

Cassandra stared directly into his eyes. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Not half an hour later, a nineteen year old, blonde Araluen girl rode into the Gallican camp, her eyes bloodshot and wild, her hair matted, her face bruised, incoherently claiming to be acting Queen Cassandra. Her expensive ceremonial dress, her royal seal and the fact that she was flanked by Battle-master David gave sufficient legitimacy to her claim.

Both Halt and Pauline consented that, as recognised diplomats renowned for their perceived manipulative abilities, their presence would do more harm then good. However, they were adamant that she was not go alone. The visibly aged Sir David was an ideal choice – although unassuming in stature, he was experienced in diplomatic matters and his skill with the sword was rivalled by very few.

At the sight of her, Prince Phillip's innate hospitality kicked in, and he welcomed her into his tent. In pleading for a ceasefire, Cassandra employed a technique almost never used by politicians. She told the truth.

Needless to say, the Prince was skeptical."How do I know you are who you say you are?"

"If I was an imposter, would I come to you like this?" Cassandra replied. She proceeded to produce numourous legal documents, many of which were forged, documenting the arrival of Lady Merkhliné, her rise to power, and so on.

A ceasefire was called.

That evening, for the first time in almost a week, Cassandra slept.

**Line Break**

Elaine and Rivva found cheap accommodation in a small tavern, not half a kilometre from the prison where Gilan and Bryn were being held. Now, they sat on opposite ends of a small, wooden table, their meal sitting untouched between them.

"What are we going to do?" Rivva asked, her eyes stinging.

"You're going to stay here," Elaine replied. "I'm going to the prison to find out for sure whether the execution is going ahead tomorrow. If it's not, hopefully they'll let us go and see them, and we can negotiate their release."

"And if it is?" _Rivva_ asked

"If it is, I'll still come back for you," Elaine replied. "We'll get them out. Somehow."

Rivva nodded, standing and moving to the other side of the room and collapsing on the bed.

**Thanks for reading! **

**no-oneimportant: Yeah, things weren't looking particularly great… but at the end of this chapter, hopefully you can see the light! I'm pretty notorious when it comes for not updating for extended periods of time… look here! Two years! Trouble is, I'm quite busy, so I apologise for any long waits I may cause you in the future. However, I don't think that'll be a problem for this fic, as this is, shock horror, the second last chapter! :0 Personally, I can't believe it, as I've been working on this fic for a LONG time. Anyway, glad you've enjoyed it! **

**Cup-o-coffee: Um… well then… *hires bodyguard* Haha thank you, truly! I'm so sorry for the wait, but, well… here you go. Thanks for taking the time to read and review!**

**Trust-the-Cloak: Haha glad you're enjoying it! And thanks for your review!**


	15. Negotiations

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

Rivva did not stay in the Tavern.

Minutes after Elaine left, she was up on her feet and out the door, following mother at a distance. After watching her mother go inside, she glanced around herself, trying to find a way in. There was a water shaft running up alongside a window. It took her about five minutes to climb up the slippery shaft. When she reached the window, it was locked shut. She pressed her ear against the icy glass. Although muffled, she could hear her mother's soft voice imploring the Warden.

"I don't know, ma'am," the Warden replied. "I haven't received any orders from the castle so I assume the execution is going ahead. Standard procedure would be to delay the execution until the others are caught, and perhaps investigate the case further. But this is wartime and we're all about efficiency."

Rivva had heard enough. She climbed down and desperately began searching for a way in.

**-**As soon as they reached the prison gate, Will adopted the submissive manner that would be expected of a servant boy, dutifully taking the reigns of both Tug and the Doctor's horse, and leading them both the the stable whilst Adrien went to announce himself to the warden.

Tug was not happy about this arrangement. _Why do you have to lead me? This is ridiculous_

Will wondered if he could simple replied mentally

Tug shook his mane. _Yes, you can. Save the strange looks we always get when you talk to me. _

Will shook his head. _It's all about keeping up appearances. We don't want anyone knowing you're a Ranger horse_, he replied.

_Another reason to talk in your head, for Gorlog's sake!_ Tug responded

Will grinned. _I'm pretty sure "Talk in your head, for Gorlog's sake!" is the most interesting sentence I've heard all day._

_Speak for yourself,_ Tug replied. _You might not remember your own thoughts, but I do. And the bulk of them are very, very strange._

Will ignored him. As he entered the stable, it occurred to him that oiled doorknobs seemed very unusual, but they actually weren't. It was just Halt that didn't oil doorknobs. Maybe it was simply the smell of oil that deterred his mentor– it was pretty awful. He wondered what oil was made from. Was manure an ingredient? How about tulips? The tears of small children?

Tug's ears perked up. _See what I mean?_

Will left the horses in the stable and went to join Adrien by the door. A minute later, the an elderly man opened it, and let them in. "Are you the Warden?" Adrien asked.

The man nodded. A young woman, about Will's age or maybe slightly older, appeared behind him. The old man grunted. "What do you want?"

"I wish to inquire about tomorrow's execution," Adrien replied.

"Same as I told Elaine 'ere," the Warden shrugged. "Don't know nuthin'. If you…"

"Actually," the Doctor interjected, "I'm here to stop the execution. I'm a doctor, and one of the men is medically unfit. And requires urgent treatment. May I see them, please?"

The Warden shrugged. "Be it on your head if the king disapproves," he replied darkly.

"The same king gave me this authority," Adrien replied. "I'm just using it."

Grabbing his medical kit, he followed the Warden to the cell where Bryn and Gilan were being held. Will followed about a metre behind. As they continued down the corridor, his attention was caught by a faint rustle behind them. Adrien and the Warden kept walking, oblivious.

Cautiously, Will turned around and began silently retracing his steps.

"What - " the Warden began, but Adrien quickly cut him off, and the pair continued towards the Gilan and Bryn's cell.

Will sighed, glad to have Adrien on their side. The Rustle started again, although now it sounded more like a clang. He followed it to the back of the corridor.

The clanging stopped. Will gripped his Saxe knife, knowing he was not alone in the room. There was another faint rustle. Will abruptly swung open the door to the cell on his left, revealing a young girl.

The girl in question scrambled to her feet, swinging out a rather expensive looking dagger.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you," Will assured her. He extended his hand towards her. "I'm Will."

The girl's eyes widened. "Ranger Halt's apprentice?"

Will concealed his surprise. "That's me."

The girl released her breath. "I'm Rivva. I'm Bryn's daughter. They're innocent, I promise! Dad and Ranger Gilan, I mean."

Will nodded. "I know. And I can prove it. Listen, Gilan's very injured. A doctor came here with me, and he can stop the executions. Bryn's coming home to Araluen, I promise. But I can take you to see him now, if you like."

"Yes please," Rivva smiled.

"Okay, he's just up here," Will replied. He paused. "How did you get in?"

"Oh," Rivva fiddled with her hair. "I climbed the water shaft."

Will's eyes widened. "Really? Wow." He grinned. "You'd make a good Ranger."

Rivva smiled. "Um… thanks," she replied awkwardly.

When Alyss and Crowley arrived at the castle, they were initially turned away. Apparently, the king had gone to bed, and not even ambassadors carrying an urgent message from a country with which they were at war could disturb him from his slumber.

"Fine," Alyss muttered. "We'll stay here."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Overnight?"

"If it comes to that, then yes," she replied.

"Will and Horace will be worried," Crowley commented mildly.

"So?" Alyss huffed. "I'm so tired if them being worried. It's like they feel they have this license to constantly be rushing to my protection. And you know who feels the same way as me? Cassandra. Will and Horace need to learn to put the task at hand ahead of personal… whatever it is."

Crowley chuckled. "I'm not disagreeing with you. I just made a comment."

Alyss sighed, leaning against the stone wall. "Sorry. I'm just tired. And stressed."

Crowley nodded. "We all are. I'm sorry for provoking you. Let's find somewhere to sit."

There was a large recliner in the next room. The Araluens, with the consent of the attendant, made themselves at home and desperately tried to keep awake. However, no amount of coffee could prevent Crowley from nodding off, and Alyss frequently found herself having to drearingly shake him awake. She'd all but nodded off herself when another attendant descended the staircase and approached her.

"Lady Alyss?" The servant asked

Alyss's eyes flickered open. After the sluggish seconds it took for her to comprehend, her head shot up in anticipation. "Yes, that's me," she replied.

"We have just received word from the Prince. A ceasefire has been called. Naturally, the executions have been delayed. One of the men has been declared medically unfit by a doctor, so he wasn't to be executed at any rate."

"Really?" Alyss smiled. "I'm pleased. As for the two men, I can prove their innocence."

The Servant nodded. "The King will speak to you and your party tomorrow, and again when your Princess arrives. In the meantime, he has requested I take you to one of the palace suites so you can rest. You'll be seeing the Prince at eleven – this should give you time for sufficient sleep."

"Thanks," replied Alyss. She paused, giving a shaky laugh. "Wow. Thank goodness."

The attendant grinned. "You seem relieved."

Alyss nodded, grinning in return, all professionalism abandoned.

"My son's in the army," the attendant said. "We were worried we'd never see him again. And now a ceasefire's been called." He chuckled. "Thank you. Truly"

Alyss shrugged. "I suppose I can sleep now."

"I'd recommend that," the Attendant replied. "It's very late, and you seem very tired."

"Really? It can't be that late," Alyss replied. "What time is it?"

The attendant cracked a smile. "It's four in the morning, my Lady."

They shook Crowley awake, conveyed the good news to him, and the attendant took them to their rooms

As one usually does as they wake up, Gilan was carefully untangling dreams from reality. On this particular day, this was quite difficult. He blinked away the sheen of moisture clouding his vision, glancing about him. The last few days were a blur. He remembered a battle, a bottle, a dark, cold prison cell – no, surely that had been a dream. It must have all been a dream, for now he was lying under the soft covers of his own bed…

His heart clenched. It wasn't his own bed. He had no idea where he was. And his head – his whole body in fact - was plagued by pain.

"He's awake!" A familiar, worried voice rang out. Will. Gilan sighed in relief as familiar faces came into view, taking comfort in the presence of his friends.

Horace and Bryn were also there. And Elaine, Bryn's lovely wife. And, apparently his daughter, Rivva…

He must still be dreaming.

Will gave a slight chuckle. "We weren't expecting you to wake so soon," he said. "And no, I don't think you're dreaming."

Ah. Either Will could read minds now, or he was thinking allowed.

"Yes, you are," Horace smiled, placing a cloth on his head.

"What?" Gilan croaked. "Where… am –"

"Shhh," Elaine soothed. "Don't try to talk."

"It's all over, Gilan," Bryn smiled. "We did it, you know. We took Araluen back, and now we're in Gallica, and we're free, you and I, they've realized we're innocent of the crimes they accused us of, and Prince Phillipe has called a ceasefire, so there'll be no war between Gallica and Araluen. Your Lady Alyss and Ranger Crowley are meeting with the King now. It's all over, Gilan."

Will nodded. "You've been reinstated as a Ranger again, and you can resume your duties, once you're well enough."

"Although that could be a while off," an unfamiliar voice broke in. Another man entered Gilan's view. "Hello, Gilan," he said. "I'm Adrien, the Doctor. I'm here to look after you."

Gilan groaned. "Well I certainly hope your not here to poisen me."

Adrien laughed. "No, not at all, though it may seem like it at times. Now, do you think you could sit for me?"

"Mmph," replied Gilan, allowing Horace to prop him upright. "Head hurts," he said, after a while. "Tired."

"I know," Adrien soothed. "Do you think you could drink some of this broth for me? Just a little bit, with some water to wash it down. Then you can go back to sleep."

"Don't baby me," grunted Gilan, begrudgingly accepting the steaming mug being handed to him. When his hands trembled, and he was unable to retain his grip, Will clasped his own hands over Gilan's and guided the mug to the older man's mouth.

Ten minues later, Gilan had, once again, sunk into a very deep sleep.

At the proposed time the next day, Lady Alyss and Ranger Crowley met with the King and his most senior advisors. They closeted themselves until late that evening, and many a servant or senior councelor walked past the door, casting wry glances at it. Indeed, all of two countries were waiting with abated breath for what might come out of that room.

"I believe we're done," Crowley was finally able to say, releasing the pent-up oxygen from his lungs.

"Indeed," replied King Marius.

Alyss levelled her gaze. There was one more thing she had to be sure of. "You will issue a full pardon to Gilan and Bryn?"

The King shook his head. Alyss started, opening her mouth, but with a touch to her hand, Crowley stilled her. "A pardon won't do," King Marius replied. "It would imply that they had been guilty of some crime, for which I am forgiving them, unfairly, in an effort to appease you."

Alyss nodded. "Of course. That would damage your credibility, as well as the reputations of our countrymen."

Marius smiled in relief, having feared a far more hostile reaction. "The five of us," he said, indicating the two Araluens and his two advisors, "we are all authorized as judges, are we not? Berliac here is our chief Judge. The people will accept his word. Your countrymen… they must be tried, and found Not Guilty."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," replied Alyss, "But Is there no other way? I'd rather spare them the pain. Even without his head injury, Gilan has suffered much these past months. I fear for what the stress of a trial could do to him."

"My Lady," Berliac addressed her. "Gilan would need not be tried. There is enough evidence to declare him innocent, and the Doctor's statements about his condition would mean we'd been unable to try him at present, regardless. However, I fear there is not enough tangible evidence to clear other man without the verdict of a Jury. He will have to be tried."

The Araluens nodded, able to accept this, but not liking it one bit. "How soon can we have the trial?" asked Crowley, wanting the process over and done. "And how can we best minimize the strain on him… and on his wife and child?" The Araluens had heard of the arrival of Elaine and Rivva over breakfast.

The King glanced at his chief Judge. "Can we hold it tomorrow?"

Berliac nodded. "I will summon a Jury. We can hold it at dawn."

Alyss sighed in relief. "Thank you. That would be most suitable."

Crowley cracked a smile. "Poor Jury."

As soon as they left the room, the King went to officially announce that no war with Araluen would ensue. The next morning's trial was over by breakfast, as the Jury, estactic about the return of their sons, didn't take much convincing to find Bryn not guilty.

"Unusal for Gallicans," Bryn murmered to Elaine. "I feel almost insulted." He earned himself an elbow in the ribs from his half-Gallican wife and a "Hey!" from his fully-Gallican, adopted daughter.

Prince Phillipe arrived home the next week, with the Gallican army. Acting Queen Cassandra arrived with him, accompanied by Halt and a few other select advisors. A simple formality, more than anything, besides the fact that a new treaty had to be drawn out, in the light of recent events.

However, upon arriving at the castle, Halt would not allow himself to be taken to his room. "I want to see my apprentice, first thing," he bristled. "Where is he?"

"But… Halt… he's right beside you," Crowley smiled wryly, indicating Will.

Halt glared. "Very funny. I want to see the big, lanky, foolish one that's gotton himself into more trouble this year then the rest of the corps, combined."

For the next few days, Gilan drifted in and out of consciousness. The next time he awoke fully, a grizzled, familiar face was staring down at him.

"About time," Halt murmured, the barest hint of a smile touching his lips. "I've been waiting for hours."

"Sorry, Halt," Gilan croaked, before a coughing fit seized him. Halt wrapped an arm around his shoulders, helping him into a sitting positon. Eventually, the fit subsided, leaving Gilan leaning against his former mentor, his body wracked.

Halt reached for a glass of water on the table beside him, holding it to Gilan's lips. Irritated, Gilan took the glass, batting Halt's hand way. "Small sips," Halt warned, relinquishing the glass.

Gilan nodded, obediently taking slow, careful sips.

Halt sighed. "I suppose I had better wake the Doctor. Typical of you, to wait until he finally got some shut-eye to wake up yourself."

Gilan smiled. "Let him rest," he said softly. "Halt, I – Maybe I dreamed this, I don't know but – Jerome said, when we were in…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I was in prison. We were going to be executed. How - "

"Shhhh," Halt cut him off. "How about I tell you what happened, as far as I know, and you can tell me how much you remember?"

Gilan nodded. "Go from the beginning."

"Okay," Halt agreed. "In the battle, the last person to see you was Rodney. You were inside the castle, and you left to check on the king. The next we heard, you'd been sighted leaving the country with Bryn, Alda and Jerome." Gilan gasped. Halt gently shushed him, then helped him to lie back down. "Jerome must have worn your cloak, and they must have put you in his armour, because the sightings said that Jerome was slung over Alda's shoulder, whilst you were walking free. Sightings in Gallica, however, have shown that Jerome is quite clearly in full health."

Gilan nodded. "Jerome said – said you thought I'd killed the King."

"When we went to find Duncan, there was no sign of you – only a bottle. An empty bottle, of the medicine the Doctor gave you."

"What?" Gilan's eyes widened horrified. "I didn't… Or at least I don't think I did! I wouldn't have!" His eyes darted around the room desperately. "I remember going down to the cell, and seeing the King, and then – fainting –"

Halt brought a hand to his former Apprentice's forehead, in an attempt to still him. "Of course you didn't. Bryn said he found you there, unconscious. Bryn had brought your medicine, and unfortunately Jerome and Alda followed him." He took a deep breath, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Bryn said that, when he tried to give you the medicine, they took it and poured it out."

"Oh," Gilan murmered. "And so you found the empty bottle. But who poisoned the King, then, if they poured it all out?"

Halt shrugged. "Hopefully Duncan will be able to tell us. Whoever did it didn't give him nearly a strong enough dose. Cassandra will continue as his Reagent until he recovers"

"He's – alive?" Gilan croaked.

"Aye," Halt smiled.

Relief crossed Gilan's face, and he suddenly looked far healthier. "And so – Bryn and I – we've been cleared?"

Halt nodded. "There was enough evidence to declare your innocence without a trial, and the Doctor wouldn't have allowed it anyway, in your condition. Bryn was tried, and found Not Guilty." Fortunately, Gilan asked no more questions, so Halt declined to continue. There was no need to distress Gilan by telling how close they had come to war with Gallica, how Alda and Jerome were still on the loose, how the treaty between Araluen and Gallica was being renegotiated that minute. "Your parents will be here as soon as they can be."

"Sir." A servant appeared in the doorway. "Queen Cassandra has requested your presence." His eyes widened when he saw the patient was awake. "I'll fetch the Doctor."

"Thank you," Halt nodded, rising to his feet. "I'd better go," he told Gilan. "Wouldn't want to keep Her Highness waiting." He smiled wryly. "I'll send you some company. There's a queue, you know."

"Thanks, Halt," Gilan smiled.

Gilan couldn't see the door from where he lay. His heart clenched when he heard it swing open. Doctors didn't barge in like that.

"Gilan!"A familiar voice almost shouted, causing the young Ranger's ears to ring and a relieved smile to cross his face.

"Hello, Rodney," Gilan replied weakly, as his old friend came to sit by his side.

"Gilan!" Another voice broke in. "My, you do manage to get yourself into so much trouble. Whatever will we do with you?"

Gilan grinned. "Jenny."

There was only one person, in the entire world, who Jerome cared about. Although why he felt such affection for the lumbering brute was a mystery to him.

Of course, it hadn't always been this way. He'd had a family, once. A mother, a father and an elder brother, and he'd cared a great deal for them, and they for him. He'd even felt something akin to sadness for them, when he received news that they'd been carried off by a terrible sickness, mere months after his expulsion from the Battleschool. No, he'd felt a great deal of emotion then. He couldn't say exactly what he'd felt, only that it had almost destroyed him. He knew only that he was feeling it again now.

That left him with only three people he cared for. Alda, of course, and Bryn. And Merkhline, he realized now.

But Bryn had betrayed him. He'd stolen away with Elaine, who'd always opposed him. Yet he'd felt some affection for her, perhaps for the light she'd brought into Bryn's life. Now he hated them both. He'd wanted to hurt them, and so he'd ordered his men to attack their child, knowing that seeing her suffer would injur them both far deeper than any physical wounds.

However, his men had been far from effective. The girl was a little roughed up, but she'd recovered. And they'd brought the Ranger Gilan upon them. No-matter, he'd thought angrily. A couple of tablets in Gilan's and Bryn's drinks would make them forget anything Gilan had discovered and would discredit anything they said.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

They really hadn't intended to start the war with Gallica, but, after their first failure, it had brought some comfort and satisfaction. He'd hoped both sides would have countless casualties – he hated Gallicans almost as much as he hated Araluens. And it meant he got to kill Merkhliné. But now, they'd been on the run for over a week. They were wanted men, and they'd achieved nothing. There was to be no war between Araluen and Gallica, and Bryn and Gilan had been cleared of all alleged crimes.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd stopped caring for Merkhline, but it had been a long time ago. Yet, he'd felt a strong wave of emotion upon killing her, though what, he couldn't say. Regret? Guilt? Grief? The same tears that had pricked at the back of his eyes then flowed freely down his face now.

He'd thought he'd stopped caring for Alda, too. Oh, how wrong he'd been.

Now he sat at the bottom of the cliff, cradling the bigger man's blodied head, staring down into two empty, unseeing eyes. It was hard to believe that those eyes were the same hurt, injured ones that had stared back at him as he, in a fit of anger and frustration, had pushed Alda over the edge. They'd been full of life then. Nothing could bring that life back now.

Suddenly, the stones around them began to roll down, dislodged by something from above. He looked up to see a young girl clinging to the cliff wall, her eyes wide in shock, fear and recognition. His own features mirrored these emotions. "Rivva," he whispered hoarsely. How had he not heard or seen her coming? He stood up and made a lunge towards her, seizing her skirts and pulling her down. Dimly, he saw something flash in her hand. He felt a sharp jab, and then knew no more.

It was hours later when Will and Horace found Rivva at the bottom of the cliff, her ankle broken, her eyes red with uncontrollable tears, her clothes splattered with blood. It gave them a very little comfort to learn that none of it was her own.

"I was just going on a walk," she told them.

"By yourself?" Horace asked gently, exchanging a concerned glance with Will.

She nodded. "Yeah. Stupid idea, I know. Bryn and Elaine'll be furious. But I thought – I don't know what I thought," she finished lamely. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"That's all right," Will soothed, placing an arm around the young girl, "but you must never do that again." The events of the last few weeks had left them all very shaken. It was far from uncommon for such ordeals to addle one's 'd have to ensure she wasn't left on her own for quite some time. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

"I saw two men at the bottom of the cliff. I thought they needed help, so I strapped some water bottles to myself and climbed down." She pointed to the broken bottles that lay a meter across from them. "I was nearly at the bottom when I recognized them. So I stopped suddenly. That caused some stones to roll, and – and that one looked up." She pointed to Jerome, her dagger still protruding from his chest. "He grabbed me, so I -" She spun away from them, and vomited.

Horace gently rubbed her back. When she finished, he pulled her into a hug. "Does this make me a murderer?" She asked feebly.

"No!" Horace exclaimed, the caught himself. "No," he repeated, far more gently. "You acted in self-defense, and you caught the most wanted criminal in Gallica and Araluen. Well done."

"I think the other one fell of the cliff," Rivva added feeble. "Or – was pushed."

"Okay," Will replied gently. "Thank you for telling us. Now, let's get you out of here. Horace is going to carry you to the top of the cliff, and then we're going to send for a litter to come and take you to see the Doctor, okay?" Rivva nodded.

Careful not to jar her ankle, Horace lifted the girl and the trio made their way to the top of the cliff. A sturdy path created by a long ago dried-up waterfall meant there was no need to climb the sheer cliff face, as Rivva had apparently done. "Didn't you see the path, Rivva?" Will asked gently.

"Oh," Rivva blinked. "Yes, I think I did. I just – I don't know why I didn't take it."

Will nodded, forcing a smile upon his face. "Well, you certainly did well to climb down, but please don't make a habit of it."

A tiny smile touched Rivva's lips. "Don't think that'll be a problem," she murmered. "Not with a broken ankle."

"Quite," murmered Horace, as they reached the top of the cliff, and laying her on the grass where Tug and Kicker grazed. "Will's going to ride and fetch your parents. I'm going to stay here with you. All right?" Rivva nodded. Will wasted no time in mounting Tug and riding like the wind back to the Castle. Less then half an hour later, Adrien arrived with Bryn, Elaine and several helpers, bearing a litter.

As the young girl was being tended to, Will and Horace stood out of earshot, speaking in hushed tones. "Kid's got a death wish," Horace muttered anxiously. "Going out on her own and climbing the cliff like that…"

Will nodded. "I think – I think we should order a suicide watch," he said grimly. It pained him to order such a thing for one so young. "It may not be entirely necessary, but it's not the first time she's pulled something like this. She tried to leave Araluen on her own, you know. And she managed to break into the prison."

Horace nodded. "She's a sneaky one. Sneaky enough to be a Ranger," he added, only half joking.

Will only nodded.

**Thanks for reading! **

**If anyone is still with me after four years… Thank you. Truly.**


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice.**

Everyone had been taken by surprise at how remarkably quickly Gilan had recovered. He was allowed to travel back to Araluen on the same day as Rivva. Not one to be idle, Gilan spent a week with his parents in their home, before resuming his work for Old Bob. After a short time, he was able to resume his duties as Ranger of the Meric fief under the local Doctor's watchful eye. Rather than moving into his old cottage, he stayed with Bryn's family, as no-one thought it wise for him to be living alone and isolated.

As it happened, Gilan quite enjoyed the time he spent there. Although Bryn and Elaine took careful note of all the Doctor's orders and enforced them if necessary, they didn't fuss over him incessantly as Halt and his parents had. Their evenings were pleasant, some quiet, others full of mirth and laughter.

On one such evening, whilst Bryn and Elaine were taking a long stroll in town, Gilan lounged in front of the fire, thoroughly engaged in a conversation with young Rivva about Old Bob's ponies. Their discussion was interrupted by two rather impatient knocks on the door, before it swang open. Gilan jumped to his feet, nimble as he ever had been, feeling a rush of pleasure when his vision didn't swim and no dull throb assailed him. A grizzled Ranger roughly shut the door behind him, hanging his cloak on the rack. "Well, Gilan," he grimaced. "Hope you've managed to stay out of trouble. Are you feeling much better?"

"Yes, actually," Gilan grinned, moving to greet his old mentor. "I'm as fit as I ever was, would you believe."

"No," replied Halt gruffly. "You've recovered remarkably. I spoke with your Doctor before I came here, else I wouldn't believe it." Gilan scowled at this, but held his silence. "But you're certainly not as you were before – before all of this."

"So, apart from wishing to liaise with my Doctor behind my back, why are you here?" Gilan asked, slightly impatiently.

"Would you like me to brew some tea?" Rivva interjected politely. "Or… coffee?" She scrunched up her nose, remembering the foul-smelling drink the Rangers seemed to prefer.

Halt turned to the girl, shooting her one of his rare smiles. "Tea would be lovely, thank you, Rivva," he replied. "Do you have chamomile?" He jerked his chin towards his former apprentice. "He needs his sleep."

Gilan rolled his eyes, exchanging a helpless glance with Rivva. She stifled a giggle. Gilan had been on many a rant concerning the overbearing fussiness of the seemingly distant, icy Ranger.

"She doesn't drink coffee, does she?" Halt murmured to his former apprentice.

Gilan shook his head. "She's twelve, Halt. I'm quite sure Bryn and Elaine wouldn't approve."

"Hmmm," Halt replied. "Well, I think I shall have to speak to them then. Tea is fine if she's to be a Courier, but if she has higher aspirations…"

Gilan laughed. "Why are you here Halt?"

To Gilan's surprise, a flicker of something akin to nervousness crossed over Halt's face. "Oh," he replied gruffly. "I'm here to deliver an invitation. I thought I'd come and deliver it in person."

"An invitation!"Gilan's eyes widened in surprise. "What kind?"

"A wedding invitation," Halt answered, handing Gilan a silver envelope. "To my wedding. Mine and Pauline's. There's one here for your host family as well."

Gilan grinned, enveloping his disgruntled mentor in a bear hug, finally releasing him as Rivva entered the room, bearing three mugs of chamomile tea.

"Rivva!" Gilan exclaimed. "When did you last attend a wedding?"

Rivva's ears reddened. "Congratulations, Ranger Halt," she smiled, having heard a large amount of the exchange from the kitchen. "It was – it was Elaine and Bryn's wedding actually." The newlyweds had officially adopted Rivva on that day, although Elaine had taken her in a long time beforehand.

"Now," laughed Gilan, "how shall we celebrate? Perhaps I can buy you a few drinks in the local tavern?"

Halt soured. "Both you and I have gotten into serious trouble as a result of alcohol-related incidents," he replied, clasping his former apprentice on the shoulder. "And your doctor says you mustn't drink for a while, yet. Let's go hunting, instead."

"You hate hunting," Gilan replied.

"And you've never been one for drinking." Halt flashed a smile. "I think, perhaps, we needn't worry about finding a conventional means of celebration. Let's go for a long ride tomorrow. Abelard might be getting on, but I'm willing to bet he's still faster than your Blaze."

Gilan grinned, turning to Rivva. "I'd take him up on his bet, if I were you, Rivva," he said. "He'll lose his money, mark my words."


End file.
